


Birdsong

by Luned



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: BDSM, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Manipulation, Murder, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Revenge, Romance, Smut, With Bad Etiquette Because Mercer Is A Bastard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2018-12-15 20:58:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 29
Words: 328,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11814063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luned/pseuds/Luned
Summary: After escaping a childhood of cruelty and loss, Wren finds herself a home with the Thieves Guild and just as quickly finds herself falling for the Guild's auburn-haired, silver-tongued second-in-command. As Wren tries to come to terms with her past pain and her present feelings, an opportunity for revenge on the woman who killed her parents starts her down a darker path, one that is made all the more complicated when an encounter with the Guildmaster proves far more than she bargained for.





	1. First Blood

_Prologue_

  
The evening sky is dark, the air heavy and still. The waterfall to the east rushes fast and loud. Mother says a storm is coming, with worry knotting her brow as she mentions the leaky roof, but Father laughs merrily and pulls her close.

'Let the storm take it all,' he says. 'I want an excuse to buy you a castle.'

I have never seen him so happy, and Mother's smile lights up her eyes. She says she has no use for a castle, just a sturdy roof.

Father kisses her cheek. 'Then the castle will have the sturdiest of roofs, my love.'

I play by the fire, only half-listening to them, instead dreaming of my tiara. Mother told me that Father's discovery will change our lives. I don't know what ebony is, but I know that mines sometimes have gems, and so when Father came home that evening I demanded a silver crown of amethysts. Father laughed and said I could have a thousand if I like. Mother told him not to encourage me, but he said to her that that even halved with his friend who discovered the hidden mine with him, the profits will let us buy anything we want. I deduce that it means I will have as many tiaras as I desire and so I start to plan what I want them to look like, with sparkling gems every colour of the rainbow.

As the storm presses in, they send me up to bed. I protest, as usual, for the fire is warm and my bed is cold. Father promises me that in the castle we'll have fires in every room, and servants to stoke them. Mother sighs.

'Don't worry, you'll have as many servants as you want, too,' Father says to her. He leans in to bring his mouth to her ear, his voice very low, but I still hear. 'But you won't need a fire to keep you warm, my love.'

She pushes him away, but the smile at her lips makes her eyes smile too. She stands up and marches me upstairs to my bed, tucking me in and laying a quick kiss on my forehead. Tonight she leaves without telling me a story but I don't care, too busy imagining the necklaces and rings that will match my tiara.

As I feel myself drifting off to sleep, I listen to the murmur of their voices downstairs, punctuated with Mother's quiet laughter. Soon I hear the wet sounds of kissing. I cover my ears and am glad when the storm starts to lash the house. The thundering rain drowns everything and I listen to the waterfall, the crashing water lulling me to sleep.

Some time later, I wake up with a jolt, but it's still pitch dark and I shouldn't be awake yet. My throat is dry. The storm has calmed, the heavy rain now a soft steady drizzle, whispering on the roof above. It seems louder than the earlier torrent. I see the firelight still glowing from down the stairs, but the house is silent.

I get up from my bed, my mind thinking only of getting a drink. The barrel outside in the yard will be full of cool fresh rainwater. Storm water tastes the nicest.

The stairs creak. When I step into the main room, I see the fire dying out. The warm hazy light falls upon Mother. She lies awkwardly, one arm at a funny angle, blood oozing from a red gash at her throat. Father lies beside her. His neck bears the same wound, blood spilling over his chest, while a deep tear runs across his stomach.

'Mother?' I whisper.

The tall slender figure of a woman rises from the shadows beside Father before I can take a step forward. She is hooded and masked, with her eyes uncovered. Her deep scarlet and black clothing is splattered with blood.

'Hail Sithis,' the masked woman says quietly, her voice like silk. I see her eyes, blue in the firelight, narrowing as behind the cowl she smiles.

I can only watch, paralysed in fear, as she drops a sprig of nightshade on Mother's breast, and then another on Father's stomach. She looks at me, inclining her head. I see a few blonde strands slip out from beneath her hood.

'They're dead, little girl.' She says it like describing the weather. 'They're better that way.'

Before I can blink, she pushes open the front door and steps out into the storm. I hear the rain splashing into the barrel before she closes the door, and then suddenly everything is quiet.

I walk to Mother and Father but do not touch them, not wanting to disturb their game, knowing it must be some grown up thing. I kneel beside the dying fire, waiting for them to wake up.

At some point, the fire dies out.

I start to feel cold.

 

* * *

 

_Ten years later_

 

I leave at midnight. The drunk guards outside in the nearby alley are harassing a whore and haven't noticed a thing. No one heard the screams. _They never do_ , I remind myself. How many times have people walked past this place and chosen not to hear the screams?

My fingers slippery with blood, I fumble with the lock on the courtyard gate, listening to the guardsmen slurring at the woman. It is dark, with only faint torchlight emanating from further down the street, and I have to strain my eyes to focus on the gate. Years ago, one of the other children showed me how to tease a lock with a hair pin; the girl had used the skill to get into the food cupboards at night, stuffing her starving belly with all the sweet things she could reach. I force the memory from my mind, not wanting to think about what had happened when she had been caught with sugar on her mouth.

I put the bloody handle of the carving knife between my teeth and pull a fresh pin from my hair, but my hands start to shake with the realisation of what I have done as I taste the rusty tang in my mouth. _All that blood..._ She always made it seem like she was iron beneath the old tough flesh and impenetrable to harm. We always thought she was more like some sinewy hagraven with cruel magic in her veins. I feel a flair of satisfaction that I proved she was neither of those things. _The bitch was soft and squishy and her throat cut like warm butter._

Behind me, I suddenly hear the sound of the door back into the orphanage opening and I whirl around, taking the carving knife from my mouth, fear pulsing in my stomach when I think a guard must've come into the orphanage through the other way and found the body.

'Ma?'

I breathe a sigh of relief when I see that it's only Lily. Her thin tattered nightgown flutters around her skinny legs as she stands in the doorway. Her hair is messy and her eyelids droop. The girl often sleepwalks. _Or she simply believes the hazy dreams of deep night are real._

'Yes, it's Ma,' I say gently, not wanting to disturb her illusion. 'Go back to bed, my darling.'

'Are you leaving?' Lily asks, walking towards me.

'No, my love. I'm just making sure you're safe here.' I quickly crouch down and drop the knife and my satchel to the ground, wiping my hands on my dress as I straighten up, just in time before Lily puts her arms around my waist and leans into me.

'Don't leave, Ma,' the girl says into my breast.

I feel tears threaten my eyes. I blink hurriedly, careful not to touch the girl with my blood-smeared hand. 'I'm not leaving, Lily,' I say softly. 'I promise. Let's get you back to bed.'

I leave my satchel and the knife by the gate and Lily lets me guide her back into the orphanage. The dirt and grime of the younger children's dormitory is easily overlooked at night, but it's not so easy to ignore the smell. The chamberpots are overflowing, the beds stale, and dust and filth clog up the air; as I walk with Lily to her bed, I realise one of the children at the far end has been sick and left untended. _It's Constance's day off_ , I think, remembering that was why I planned it tonight. The woman had left that morning after sitting awake with one of the ill children, her dark brow furrowed anxiously, promising the younger ones around her skirts that she would return tomorrow. With her gone, I had to wait several long hours, until the night's guest had left and the children had been sent to bed, and then I could retrieve the carving knife I had hidden beneath my mattress. I suddenly picture what Constance will find come the morning, if the children don't find it first: the old woman's body lying on her bed, her throat ripped and blood dripping through the sheets to the ground.

I wipe my hands on my dress once more and push the image out of my mind as I tuck Lily back into the bed she shares with one of the other girls. As I look down at them, I feel a cold regret wash over me. _I should've done this sooner_ , I think, imagining all the children that had been hurt within the walls of this place. I feel a flicker of anger. _I wish someone else had done this sooner._

Lily looks up at me sleepily through long eyelashes. 'Grelod will punish you if you try to leave,' she whispers.

I wonder if she is more conscious than I thought. 'She won't punish anyone ever again,' I whisper back. 'Just go to sleep, darling, and it'll be better in the morning.'

'Tell me a story first, Ma,' Lily says. 'I like your stories.'

I think of the story of carving knife by the gate, the old cruel woman bled out in the room upstairs, the guards outside in the nearby alley that I need to sneak past; the story of the young woman with a racing heart and blood on her hands from the murder she has just committed.

'There once was a beautiful princess,' I murmur, stroking the girl's hair. 'Her name was Lily. She wore the most beautiful dresses and ate the sweetest of treats and played all day with the best toys in the palace.'

'Are you there in the palace, Ma?' Her eyes close and she snuggles beneath the thin sheets.

'I'll always be wherever you are, my darling,' I whisper. 'Don't be afraid.'

Though I have told her those words countless times before, she always believes them. As I embellish the story, Lily soon drifts back into a deep sleep, her brow furrowed. I linger for a moment, my hand stroking her soft fair hair.

When I walk out of the orphanage for the last time, my eyes are wet. I take a breath and sling my satchel over my shoulder before calmly unlocking the courtyard gate. I can no longer hear the guards down the alley, nor the whore who had grabbed their attention. As I push the gate open with a long piercing creak, I grasp the carving knife close to me and wait. No one comes. Far off, from the tavern by the market square, I hear laughter and voices, but the night's revellers are too far away to see me. I walk out of the courtyard and let the gate swing shut behind me.

I take the lower walkway down to the canals. I feel my heart in my throat as I move quickly, moving between the light and the shadows, knowing the former will illuminate the bloodstains on my gown while the latter is as good as death in this city. But luck is on my side and I encounter no one as I reach an empty jetty near the Ratway gates. I hurry down the slippery wooden steps to the water, taking off my satchel and placing the knife on the ground as I drop to my knees. I lean down and splash water on my face, relishing the sensation. I cast a quick look around before I strip off my dress and wash myself clean before finding my spare clothes. I apologise in my head to Elric as I put on his stolen shirt and trousers, knowing the lad will find a way survive until one of the taller boys grow out of their clothes. _Or maybe he won't,_ I think, and for the first time I wonder what will happen to the others left at the orphanage, whether Constance will stay or if someone else will take over Grelod's duty. _And maybe it'll be someone even worse._

 _I can't think about them now,_ I tell myself firmly, knowing my priority is staying out of sight, staying alive, and staying out of jail. _What do murderers get?_ The thought flits through my mind as I wipe the carving knife clean with my discarded dress and tuck the weapon into my satchel. That's when I notice my stained shoes and start to scrub the old leather as clean of blood as I can. _Or maybe they just kill murderers and save the cell space._ Grelod sometimes let us go to the executions they hold in square in front of the Keep. The people on the block or at the end of the rope were usually murderers, or thieves. _Would they have executed her, if they knew what she did?_ The thought is not new to me. It's only now that I realise it doesn't matter. Her death is not justice, whether it comes by my messy handiwork or by the hangman's noose. It is only her end.

 _And my beginning._ I steel myself, shaking my head to rid myself of my thoughts. I straighten up. The boy's shirt is a little tight across my chest and the trousers too short in the leg but I make do, glad to leave the stained dress in a pile of rubbish further down the walkway. That done, I stand by the water's edge, listening to the canals. The sound of water settles my heart for a moment, before I realise I am cold. The nights are mild in Riften but down here in the dark lower walkways, I discover that the air is cool and brisk. I realise I did not think to steal a jacket or cloak. Then I realise I have no food, nor anywhere to safely sleep and alleviate the exhaustion that suddenly overcomes me. I realise I did not plan beyond this moment. _Free, clean, and without a clue what the hell I am supposed to do now._

I slip my hand into my satchel, remembering that I stole enough gold from Grelod's lockbox to get me to another city. _But which? And then what?_ The questions swirl in my head as I realise the coin is not enough to last forever and that I have no skills and no idea what I am capable of doing. _Except being an attraction for the old woman's guests who came and paid to touch the children,_ I think before I can stop myself. _And now murder._ I feel cold fear strike through me when the reality of my situation hits me and I realise I cannot so easily escape the horror of what is still so close behind me.

I take deep breaths as I try to get my thoughts under control. Somewhere in my panic-stricken mind, I come to the conclusion that I cannot make any decisions right away; after all, there is no carriage leaving Riften at this hour. I suddenly and desperately want to sleep, to rest in front of a crackling fire with warm food in my stomach - and with my limited knowledge of the city, I know of only one place where I can have those things. _The tavern,_ I think. _Everything else can wait til the morning._ I set off back to the city groundlevel, glad to have a plan, even if it is only a temporary one.

The torches burn brighter here and as I approach the Bee and Barb I see that several patrons have spilled out into the nearby marketplace, raucously singing a tune. A small group of men stand in my path to the tavern entrance and suddenly my heart beats faster as I approach them, keeping my head down and giving them as wide a berth as possible. I pray to every god I know for them to ignore me.

The men notice me while the gods ignore me.

'Hey, sweetheart,' one of the men calls to me. 'What's a pretty little doll like you doing on your own?'

I ignore him and try to walk past, but the man steps directly in front of me, forcing me to stop.

'Hang on, I asked you a question, darlin',' he says, his dark eyes looking me up and down. 'What're you doing all alone in the middle of the night, eh?'

His other friends step up to me too. The three of them are not particularly brawny, but they tower over me and I suddenly remember how I felt the first time Grelod pushed me into the private room where one of her guests waited. I was ten, barely a year at the orphanage. He had walked up to me, a giant to my eyes, and looked down at my body; a prize won, a privilege bought.

'I think she wants company,' I hear one of them say as nausea races through my stomach with my memories.

'I don't,' I say coldly, trying to make my voice strong. I step to the side but the one on the left blocks my way.

'Then why are you heading to the Bee, hm?' he says. His hand goes to my arm, his touch making my skin crawl through my thin shirt. 'It's crowded in there. Why don't you stay out here with us?'

'We'll take care of you,' another says.

'After you take care of us,' the one in the middle says, his dark eyes glinting.

I remember the carving knife in my satchel and how it felt to push it into Grelod's throat not an hour ago. 'Don't touch me,' I say, wrenching out of his hold, the memory turning my stomach and dousing me in a cold sweat. 'I'll kill you.'

There comes a moment of silence before the three burst out laughing.

'You'll kill us?'

'With your little claws, kitten?' The one in the middle smirks, his deep eyes narrowing with dangerous amusement. 'Come on then,' he says, reaching for the neck of my shirt, whether intending to rip the garment off me or drag me closer I can't be sure. 'Let's see those claws.'

Suddenly, I feel a hand on my shoulder from behind and I feel a jolt of fear that their friend has come to join in too, but the hand pulls me firmly back and out of reach of the men before they can touch me.

I turn my head to see a tall man standing at my side, attired in dark clothing, the sturdy wool and leather jacket emphasising his broad shoulders. Auburn hair falls in waves to those shoulders, a silver scar runs down his right cheek, and my heart suddenly races faster when I see a dagger at his hip, the handle well worn. _It'll cut better than my knife, that's for certain._

'This one's mine, lads,' he says, his hand moving to grasp my elbow and pulling me behind him slightly as he looks at the three men. 'So why don't you fuck off?'

'We saw her first,' the one on the left says.

A quick laugh comes from the man beside me. 'And? I saw the sky first this morning, doesn't mean it's mine.'

'Find your own whore,' the middle one spits, reaching for me again.

The red-haired man at my side pulls me back again. Before I can blink, a gold coin materialises in his hand and he puts it into my palm. 'You saw her first but I've paid her,' he says. 'Whores go where the money is. So back the fuck off and let me enjoy what I've bought.'

The men seem dumbfounded for a moment.

It is the middle one that steps forward, his dark eyes narrowed dangerously. 'Or what?' he says quietly.

The man beside me sighs. 'Or we stand here arguing and the guard that's about to walk past will take her for himself and ruin everyone's fun. Or maybe I kill you. Unfortunately for me, guard will probably be here first.'

The men look around the market. 'There's no fucking guard here,' the middle one says.

'I said _about to_ walk past.' The redhead snorts in derision. 'Not very attentive, are you?'

I see one of the men ball their fists and the dark-eyed one is about to take another step forward when the man on the right looks over my head and elbows his friend. I turn my head too. A pair of guards step out from one of the streets and begin to make their patrol through the market square. _What look like straight guards, too,_ I realise, noticing their posture and alert gaze as they survey the area. The night guards are more likely drunk than not, and usually consort with criminals rather than hunt them, so the presence of the two sober and vigilant guards now seems to put the men in front of me on edge.

The man in the middle folds his arms and glares coldly as he turns back. 'You with the damn guard?'

The redhead at my side laughs. 'Not those ones, anyway. Now get out of the way so the lass and I can get a drink.'

For a moment, the men seem tempted to refuse, but they must see something in the red-haired man's eyes, or maybe they spy the dagger, as finally the one in the middle turns away with a curse and the others soon follow. The red-haired man at my side keeps a hold on my arm until they have moved elsewhere in the marketplace, then he lets go of me and steps back.

I draw further away, my body tense, ready to run.

'Don't worry, lass, I'm not really looking to buy.' His voice bears a lilting accent and a pair of deep green eyes flicker over my face. 'You all right?'

'I'm fine,' I say quickly, suddenly feeling conscious of myself under his gaze. 'Thank you for... for your help.' I hold out the coin. 'Here.'

'Keep it. For the inconvenience.' His brow furrows. 'On behalf of men everywhere, I apologise.'

'Are you sure?' I keep my hand held out. 'You really don't need it?'

'No, lass, I don't need it,' he says, an amused smile at his lips.

'Then... thanks.' I hold the coin in my fist, not wanting to open my satchel and risk him seeing the carving knife beside my stolen purse.

He nods towards the tavern door. 'You were heading in?'

'I...' My words falter as I look up at him, my heart suddenly beating faster, my reaction borne of years of finding out exactly what men want. Though the red-haired man's gaze does not drop from my eyes to take in my body, that in itself unnerves me, and I still half-expect him to drag me into an alley and claim his money's worth. At his steady eye contact and careful distance, I feel a flicker of nervous anticipation in my stomach, not unlike how I felt when Grelod would open the dormitory door after nightfall, narrowed eyes searching, deciding which of us would be spending that night in the private room, not sleeping, not alone.

I mentally shake myself, to rid myself of the thoughts and my fear. _Not everyone is like that bitch and her fucking guests,_ I remind myself. _And right now I just want to eat and sleep someplace warm, preferably with a lock on the door._

'Yes,' I say finally. 'I was.'

The corner of the man's mouth pulls up in a half smile. 'Then after you.'

He steps aside to let me pass. I walk up to the tavern door and with a deep breath I push it open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :)
> 
> Just so you know, this story will vaguely follow the canon TG questline but it's not the main focus and there will be a lot of divergence from canon as we follow the OC on her journey - this is very much her story with an in-depth focus on her character and development... and her pain and pleasure :) There are a lot of darker themes in this piece, and the rating is Explicit for a reason. That said, I hope you enjoy :)


	2. For Gold

The Bee and Barb is warm and smells of ale and cooking and honey. I breathe in, my stomach growling. I feel my cheeks start to glow in the stuffy warmth from the roaring fire.

The low-ceilinged main room is crowded and noisy even at this hour. The red-haired man who intervened with the men outside gives me a quick smile and disappears off into the crowd. I keep my head down as I approach the bar, suddenly conscious that one of these people might recognise me. _There could be one of Grelod's guests right here,_ I think, the thought sending cold shiver down my back. She was not stupid. Not just anyone was allowed in to the orphanage, and those she did invite inside were infrequent enough so as not to arouse attention; where the brothels in town might take one or two an hour, Honourhall often only saw one or two guests a fortnight. Some became regulars, some would be seen once and never again. Though I never knew names, or where the guests hailed from, they were mostly highborn, or at least wealthy enough to appear that way. They had to be, to afford the price. And I knew it highly likely that at least a few of the guests over the years were from Riften. _But that doesn't mean they're here, in this tavern, at this hour,_ I remind myself. But still my eyes wander, scouring the tavern's patrons for a familiar face, familiar hands, a familiar voice telling me words I don't want to hear.

The Argonian woman behind the bar makes me jump out of my thoughts. 'What'll it be?' she asks, her voice raspy, her eyes moving over me impatiently. 'Drink? Food?'

'Both,' I say, taking a moment to relish the fact that I have never carried so much money nor had the freedom to buy anything I liked. 'Whatever's hot. And whatever's good. And a room for the night.'

I give her the coin still in my hand and reach down into my satchel to pull a few more from my purse, careful to position my body so neither the Argonian nor the any of the people around me at the bar can see the carving knife.

Luck is on my side: no one screams murder, the coins buy me a cup of wine, a bowl of beef and vegetable stew, and the promise of the third room on the left upstairs. Through the crowd I spot an empty table in the corner, where I settle with my back to the wall, my satchel safely tucked between my feet.

I sip my wine and watch the Bee and Barb patrons surreptitiously, not wanting to attract attention to myself by staring. The tavern seems to be a popular place with both nobles and those distinctly ignoble, and even in these small hours of the night, the tavern is packed, with nearly all the tables occupied by patrons laughing and talking louder and faster than I can comprehend. I try to listen to the flurry of conversations around me but they all blur into one steady hum of noise with naught but snippets reaching my ears; two Nord men argue over mead, a soft-voiced Bosmer female recounts a delay at Riften gates, and a young man flirts with a serving girl, who rebukes him sweetly as she passes, telling him to come back in a few years when he knows how to use that sad little cock between his legs.

I reconnect as the same serving maid approaches me, carrying my food, and I give her quick and quiet thanks. I devour the stew in a couple of minutes, trying to make it last and yet unable to deny myself the pleasure of having a well cooked meal in my ravenous stomach. _Maybe murder gives you an appetite,_ I think flippantly, before gulping down another spoonful of stew and quickly following it with a mouthful of wine. The drink makes my tongue curl at first, but halfway through the cup I find myself not noticing the bitterness any more; instead, I feel warm and satisfied, and by the time I've finished my meal and am nearly at the bottom of my cup, I am feeling a strange sense of contentment, for the first time I can remember.

 _And now what?_ The thought starts to gnaw at my stomach. I clutch my cup of wine, wishing I could have more but realising that this was a luxury I cannot afford to repeat. Well aware that my purse isn't going to fill itself, I know that the coin I have should be put to good use. _Considering that by all accounts I am now on the run for murder with no idea in the world what to do or where to go._

Panic rises in me abrupty. _Gods, I should've planned this better,_ I think, as my thoughts about the future spiral faster in my mind, but I do my best to remind myself that I had little choice, little time, little means to do anything differently. At nineteen, I had become far too old to be at the orphanage, let alone too old for Grelod's guests. All I had was access to the knife and the knowledge that it had to be either this or find myself sold on. Most went that way around sixteen. Grelod had only kept me longer because I was small of height and could pass for younger with the more gullible guests. _And they paid more for it when she underaged me,_ I think. She could not do it for long. With time, my maturity began to show, and no one visited Honorhall for want of a woman, having little desire for breasts and hips. It was a week ago that Grelod took me and two of the older girls to the Bunkhouse early one morning to discuss prices with Haelga; the blonde decided she would take me and Lynna at the end of the month. _As serving maids,_ she said, though her smile and the rumours I had heard told me otherwise. I tried to remind myself that Lynna and I were lucky compared to Erenil; Haelga did not think her pretty enough, and so Grelod took the elf girl out again that evening, most likely to one of the brothels on the lower canals, and when Grelod came back, Erenil was not with her. I was glad that I at least had the chance to get away before finding myself in a worse situation.

 _But I could've just run,_ a small voice whispers inside my head, reminding me that I could have picked the lock and left the orphanage without fear of being hunted for murder; coinless but still free. _Killing Grelod was purely for my own satisfaction._ I remember it vividly at that moment, the way her eyes narrowed with anger when she realised I had picked the lock into her room, the fury changing to fear when she saw the carving knife in my hand, the way she screamed to raise an alarm, the way the only reply she got was silence and my body on top of hers, the sudden strength in me pinning her on the bed as I brought the knife down to her neck. The wrinkled skin parted like paper beneath the blade, blood overflowing like too much ink poured through thin parchment; my applied force was enough so that even the old blunt carving knife sliced her throat deep and clean. _No, it wasn't clean._ I took two more cuts at her throat, vicious deep swipes to ensure she would stay dead. The edges of her torn skin seemed to curl back on themselves as the blood spurted through.

I down the last of my wine, closing my eyes as I feel the liquid slip down my throat. _It's done,_ I tell myself. _Thinking about it is only going to make everything ahead that much harder._

'Want another drink, lass?'

My eyes snap open and I whip my head to the side, my heart pounding at being caught off-guard.

It is the auburn haired man from before, standing beside my table with a smile at his mouth. 'Hey, I'm not going to bite,' he says at my startled reaction. His green eyes crinkle up as he grins. 'I only do that when requested.'

I calm myself. 'Sorry,' I say. 'I'm just... I've got things on my mind.'

'I can tell.' He inclines his head. 'Mind if I sit?'

I hesitate, not wanting company, but not wanting to seem impolite, given his helpful intervention earlier. _Besides, even if he's just a man wanting a fuck, he's not likely to try anything in a crowded tavern._

'All right,' I say eventually.

He takes the seat beside me and I watch him cautiously as he calls over the serving girl and orders two cups of wine. In the bright candlelight of the tavern, I notice more about him than our encounter outside allowed. As he produces a few coins from his pocket and slips them into the serving girl's hand, I quickly decide that he is one of those men who seem to know they are handsome and care little about it. His auburn hair is tousled and pulled messily back at the temples, his face bearing frown and laughter lines in equal measure, with an unkempt stubble shadowing his square jaw. Each movement he makes, the charming grin he gives the serving girl and the way he settles back in his chair, is quick and precise and yet both careless and effortless as if he has done it all before and cares little to repeat it again. _It might be true enough,_ I think. He is older than me, maybe as little as fifteen years but perhaps as much as twenty five. As the fire and candlelight catches the bright green of his eyes, he looks like a young man, drunk and excited, and yet the same light casts shadows beneath his eyes and along the lines of his face, seemingly weathered by years of those easy charming grins – and whatever event that left the slender silver scar that runs from cheekbone to jaw.

He notices me watching him. His half-smile lets me know he's used to it. 'Do you want to make some coin beyond that one piece, lass?' he says.

The suddenness of his question throws me for a moment. 'Excuse me?'

'I know a way you can earn some gold, if you're interested,' he says.

I feel cold dread wash over me as I realise my fears are proven right, and while the redhead is handsome – and the charming smile that pulls at his mouth strangely seems to make my own lips want to smile too – I have no intention to make coin that way. 'No, thanks,' I say shortly.

A frown comes across his brow. 'I'm not asking you to actually sell yourself, lass,' he says. 'Even if you did, I don't think I could afford the price someone of your beauty would command.'

I feel a blush stalk over my cheeks, more with the obviousness of the line than with anything else.

The redhead grins. 'That was bad, I know,' he admits. 'Never mix whore jokes with pick up lines.'

'It might have worked on a whore,' I say, my mouth curving into a smile before I can help it.

'I'll try it sometime and let you know.' His green eyes laugh. 'You got a name, lass?'

I falter. Grelod rarely kept records of the children who stayed at Honorhall, but I know it will soon be common knowledge that she is dead, and it will only take Constance or one of the other children giving up my name and the fact I disappeared on the night of the murder for people to put two and two together. I realise I have to leave that life, that person, behind. _But a name?_ I panic for a moment, my mind blank. I take a quick sip of my wine to fill the pause, and as I do so my eyes land upon a picture on the wall, a flock of birds in flight, and suddenly I think of the wrens and sparrows that flew past the orphanage while we played in the courtyard, when I wished I had wings to fly.

'Wren,' I say. 'Like the bird.'

'Brynjolf.' His eyes flicker over me. 'And are you new in Riften, Wren? I don't think I've seen you around before.'

'I've lived here for a bit,' I say vaguely.

'But just never gone outside?' he says.

 _Beyond running errands for Grelod, attending executions and the occasional successful break out for a few hours, no._ The thought that I have never left the orphanage for any length of time – never slept anywhere other than my hard bed in the dormitory for the past ten years – makes me suddenly defensive. 'And you have eyes everywhere to know that, do you?' I say sarcastically.

Brynjolf laughs. 'There are eyes everywhere, lass. Not all are mine. The ones I do have somehow never spotted you before, though.'

'Maybe you just weren't looking in the right places then,' I say abruptly.

'Well, I've found you now and that's good enough for me.' The smile lingers at his mouth. 'And good for you too, if you want work.'

'What work, exactly?' I say, wary, but we are interrupted before Brynjolf can answer.

The serving girl appears with our drinks. She's pretty, a rosy cheeked plump Nord with ruby red lips and hair like ebony. I notice the way she leans her body at an angle to set down the drinks on the table, and how she pushes out her chest to further show the spill of her breasts above her tight dress. _For the best advantage to the redhead_ , I think, and I hear the smile in Brynjolf's voice as he thanks her for the drinks, to which she responds with a sweet laugh and a promise that if he has any other need of her, he just has to ask. Unbidden, I feel a sudden sense of annoyance as he tells her he'll keep it in mind.

She leaves and I reach for one of the cups of wine, wondering why the hell I should be feeling irritated. I feel Brynjolf's gaze on me as I sip my drink, relishing the taste of wine once more and the way it seems to be loosening some of the tension from my body.

'Ever stolen anything, Wren?' Brynjolf asks suddenly.

I lower my cup and look around, making sure no one is listening. 'Stolen anything?' I whisper.

The redhead snorts with laughter. 'No need to be so furtive,' he says, amused. 'People rarely see what's right in front of them. And you didn't answer my question.'

'If I've ever stolen anything?' I falter, thinking of the coin in my purse, the knife in my satchel and the clothes I wear. _Does a woman's life count too?_ 'Maybe,' I say cautiously, keeping my voice low.

Brynjolf grins. 'So I thought. Figured you wouldn't be averse to a little illegal activity.'

'How could you possibly know that?' I ask, panicked that what I've done is written on my face.

'Easy, lass, I'm not about to turn you in for confessing to a bit of thievery. And as for how I can tell, it's all about sizing up your mark. You're in clothes too small and anyone with fifty gold pieces in their purse would've at least bought clothes that fit.'

I flush with the thought that his eyes have lingered on my body long enough to notice my tight clothing before I take in the rest of his words. 'How do you know I have fifty gold pieces?'

He smiles apologetically. 'I may have picked your purse. Sorry. It's a habit. Can't help myself.'

'You pickpocketed me?' I grab my satchel from beside my feet and clutch it to my lap, a mix of fear and anger coursing through me.

Brynjolf laughs. 'Not now, although I could've done. I did it outside.'

'How...' I stare at him, feeling my face flush with humiliation, wondering if he had done it during the encounter with the men or after, wondering how I could be so blind not to see. 'I didn't feel anything,' I say.

'That's not something a man usually wants to hear, but I'm glad on this occasion.' Brynjolf grins. 'Don't worry, I didn't take anything.' His eyes hold mine, still smiling. 'Didn't want to cut my fingers on that clunky old knife you've got in there.'

I feel cold panic wash over me and in my fear I can't think of anything to say, any excuse to give as to why I have a knife in my satchel with a coin purse of stolen gold. _It doesn't take a genius to work it out,_ I think, my body poised on the edge of my chair, ready to flee.

Brynjolf's face changes as he sees my reaction, the smile giving way to a small frown and when his eyes meet mine, the expression in them is serious. 'Look, it's all right.' His voice is lower. 'You don't have to be afraid. Whatever you've done, I'm not going to turn you in. You have my word, Wren.'

Something in his voice makes me believe him, though I have little reason to do so. 'What do you want, then?' I ask quietly, my body refusing to relax.

'Help,' he says simply. He tilts his head over to the two Nords, whose argument has progressed from mead to women. 'See them?'

I turn to look across the room, just as one of the Nords loudly declares that elf cunt is always smaller than the human equivalent, to which the other laughs and proceeds to demonstrate his own opinion on the matter with his fingers as guidance.

Brynjolf makes a grimace. 'That was bad timing,' he says. 'I feel like I should apologise again.'

'I've heard worse,' I say, recalling how some guests liked to explain exactly what they were doing whilst doing it. _Don't go there,_ I tell myself firmly, feeling the icy fingers of dread clawing down my back. I look at Brynjolf. 'So what about them?'

'The one with the fair hair, see him? He's got some papers in his breast pocket, a property deed. I need it lifted off him and a false copy planted in its place.'

I frown, confused as I look at the fair Nord. 'And you can't do this yourself?'

'Unfortunately not.' Brynjolf looks back at me. 'He knows me and my... associates. He'll be more than a little wary if I go anywhere near him. But you, lass... if I've never seen you before, then I'm sure he's never seen you before. He won't know what you're after.'

'I've never pickpocketed anyone before,' I say. _I never killed anyone before this night, either,_ I think, and suddenly I can't help but want to laugh at the thought that I would be afraid of stealing something after cutting a woman's throat.

'Then think of this as training,' Brynjolf says. 'Look, I pay well for extra pairs of hands.' His eyes flicker down to where I still cling my satchel against me. 'Yours are small. I'd wager they'll slip into a pocket far easier than mine do.' His half-smile returns as his gaze return to my eyes. 'And it doesn't hurt to be beautiful when trying to get close to a man's pockets, lass.'

His flattery is as blatant as before and yet somehow I know I blush for a different reason. _Maybe it's the wine,_ I think, as my heart flutters at the compliment.

'I'll double what's in your purse,' Brynjolf goes on. 'How does that sound?'

I blink at the offer. 'They must be valuable papers,' I say.

'They are,' he says simply. 'So what do you say?'

The thought of that much coin makes me dizzy. _I could buy another cup of wine and still get out of the city,_ I think, not to mention the extra gold would give me more time to figure out what the hell I'm going to do.

My mind makes the decision for me before I can fully process it. I drink the rest of my wine in one go and stand up abruptly, putting my satchel back over my shoulder. _If I'm doing this, I want my knife with me._ 'Fine,' I say, only half-believing what I'm saying. 'I'll get your papers. Where's the false copy?'

Brynjolf's grin makes his green eyes crinkle up again. He pulls a small fold of papers out of his pocket and hands them to me. I tuck them into my right sleeve and am about to walk away when he reaches out and catches my arm. 'Lass,' he says quickly, his smile faltering for the slightest of moments. 'Don't-' He stops whatever he was going to say and the easy smile pulls at his mouth once more. 'Just watch yourself, all right?'

'Don't worry, I'll get your papers,' I say, pulling out of his hold, not liking the way my body seems to tense at his touch, leaving my heart racing too fast.

As I walk across the room, I start to doubt myself and wonder if this is such a good idea, considering the possibility that I will spend the rest of the night in a cell or worse. _Just think of the gold,_ I tell myself as the two Nords notice me walking towards them and I suddenly feel dizzy from the wine I drank too quickly. _I know I can do this. Will it be harder than what I have already done tonight?_

When I come to their table, the two men stop their conversation and look up at me. The fair one is handsome, with blond curls and sky-blue eyes, although his gaze is almost as unsteady as my legs feel; the empty bottles on the table are testament to how much the two have consumed so far. _This makes it easier,_ I think, as the Nord's blue gaze flickers over my body. _He's probably more defenceless than Grelod._

'I heard what you were saying.' My voice doesn't sound like mine and I return the man's gaze, my eyes moving pointedly over his body. He's a noble, or maybe a noble's son, or at least rich enough to afford the fine embroidered velvet of his jerkin. 'I wanted to prove you wrong,' I tell him.

The fair Nord's eyes narrow in confusion. 'What the fuck are you talking about, girl?'

'What you said about elves. And humans.' I curve my mouth into a smile. 'Don't you want to know how I compare to an elf? I could tell you I'm smaller but I'd prefer to show you so you know I'm not lying.' I throw a cold glance to his friend before turning back to the fair Nord. 'Your friend here can keep his fingers to himself. I'd rather we use something of yours as measurement.'

Comprehension slowly dawns on his face, and he grins widely. 'Is that so? Then let's get better acquainted, sweetheart.' He reaches forward and pulls me towards him, his sudden drunken movement near enough toppling me over onto his lap.

I grab the back of his chair to keep myself upright, although I let him keep a hold of my other arm and I lean close, taking my inspiration from the serving girl as I push my chest out; though not as well-endowed as the maid, the tightness of my shirt seems to please the men, as their eyes don't look at my face again. 'I'm not taking my clothes off out here,' I say. 'Come on. I've got a room.'

I feel a keen sense of power as the Nord immediately jumps up from his chair and follows me. _Is offering him my body really all it takes to get a stranger to follow me?_ I think, relishing the sudden feeling of control, having never felt anything like it before. Yet as I walk across the room to a staircase on the far side, I feel a pair of green eyes watching me, and I start to feel more self-conscious than powerful, before I quickly clear my mind and hurry to the stairs, the fair Nord stranger close at my heels.

Upstairs, I find the third door on the left and push open the door, but I've barely taken two steps into the room before large hands grab my hips and turn me around.

'You're so pretty,' the Nord slurs before he leans down and his mouth crashes against mine.

I stumble with the force of his kiss, but his hands bury in my hair tight, loosening a few brown curls from their pins as he pulls me close to his sturdy body. He tastes of ale. _But even drunk he kisses better than any of Grelod's guests ever did,_ I think distantly, remembering fumbling touches and dry tense kisses. Some were nervous, embarrassed by their twisted desires. _Some weren't, though,_ I remember with an uncomfortable shiver before the Nord's tongue pushes into my mouth, distracting me from my thoughts. My own tongue reacts more eagerly than I planned and I wrap my arms around his neck, leaning into the kiss willingly. The room seems to spin and I shut my eyes. _It's the wine,_ I assure myself as my body seems to grow warmer with the taste of the Nord's keen tongue and his groping hands as they move over my body.

As his hands grab at my chest, his drunk and clumsy fingers pulling at the tight fastenings of my shirt, I let my own hands reciprocate, running down his chest, feeling the luxurious touch of velvet. _It's so soft,_ I think distractedly, but when my fingers run over a pocket, I suddenly remember what I'm supposed to be doing and I force my eyes open.

I clutch at his chest, tugging sharply at his clothing as if to tear it free from his body as I open my mouth beneath his again and lick at his tongue, making a moan in my throat as I pull the small fold of paper out of his breast pocket and slip it quickly up my left sleeve. I kiss him harder, hoping he didn't notice, and swiftly pull the papers from my other sleeve and tuck them into his pocket. As his tongue lashes back against mine and his hands grope eagerly at my breasts through the material, I'm confident he hasn't noticed a thing.

A sudden and intense thrill of power chases through me, twice as strong as before. _I wonder if he would notice if I pulled out my knife and jammed it into his throat,_ I think. The realisation that it was so easy – that with just a few words and offering my body, I could make a stranger not only follow me and but that I could take something from him without his knowledge – sends satisfaction racing through me.

When the fair Nord gets through my shirt fastenings and his hands roughly grab at my bare breasts, I feel a thrill of a different kind, one I've not felt before. As I feel his warm breath on my mouth, I lean into the groping touch of his hands, my heart pounding as I feel my nipples suddenly stiffen - and the quiet moan of pleasure I make then is not just to distract him. _It doesn't hurt, or feel bad,_ I realise, somewhere in my drunken mind wondering how I could have hated all those guests at the orphanage, if this was what they did. _Is this what they did?_ I try and fail to remember as the Nord leans down to kiss me again, the wine on my tongue and the ale on his mixing in my mouth.

A moment later his hands drop to the waistband of my trousers. 'Let me see if you're lying, then,' he breathes against my mouth.

His touch at my navel jerks me back into reality.

'Wait,' I say quickly, pulling away, my lips sore, conscious of my exposed breasts, conscious of the warmth flooding through me. 'Would you get me some wine?'

'What? You think I'm wasting coin on bloody wine when I've already got into your room?' the Nord says with a short laugh as his mouth presses hard against mine once more.

I enjoy it for a moment, and when his eager hands move back up to my chest, I gasp against his mouth, feeling heat rising in my body fast.

I pull back, breathless, afraid, wanting. 'Please,' I say, making my voice sweet. I let my hands slide down his stomach. The wine and the memories of Grelod's more talkative guests tell me what to say, though the words sound strange when I hear my voice say them. 'Didn't I tell you I like wine before getting fucked hard? And after I've had a man come in my mouth. So you need to get me two cups of wine tonight.' I smile, toying with the fastenings of his trousers. 'If you bring more, you can find out the other reasons why I like wine.'

Even intoxicated, the Nord gets the idea pretty quickly. 'This was my lucky night,' he says, and with one last rough kiss to my lips he's out the door.

I hear his footsteps down the stairs, quicker than my heartbeat. I fasten up my shirt, although suddenly I'm aware that the material strains to meet and I realise I'm breathing heavily. I pause for a moment, watching my chest rise and fall.

_What the hell was I thinking?_

I try to get my breathing under control, but the feeling caused in me by the man's hands on my body and his tongue in my mouth lingers despite my efforts to push it aside. A shiver runs down my back as I manage to finish fastening my shirt and my hands brush over my breasts, still sensitive from his touch. _I wanted it._

I shake my head to dispel my thoughts, remembering my purpose for being here when I feel the papers scratch against my arm under my sleeve. _I wanted the gold,_ I tell myself, and I manage to believe it, although I cannot so easily suppress the thrill of how easy the whole thing was.

I don't dare use the stairs. I spot a window on the far side of the upstairs hallway and push it open; the cool night air clears my head and steadies my racing pulse. I lean out and look to the ground. The distance isn't far.

I climb out the window and take a breath before I drop down onto the ground, my landing light and graceful enough to avoid injury, years of being underfed having kept me light on my feet.

I wait outside the tavern, in the shadows but within sight of the door. I keep a watchful eye on the three men who approached me earlier – they've moved on to an alley just off the marketplace, where they've found themselves a whore who seems willing enough to entertain them. I watch them with a mix of distaste and curiosity twisting my stomach. She's against the wall, the men around her. Through the torchlight, I watch the whore drop to her knees before the men as they pull down their trousers. The sight of their cocks sends a cold chill through me though the night is still mild. _Touch it, little girl,_ a voice whispers in my mind. The whore takes one in mouth, two in hand.

'Always something to see in this city, eh, lass?'

The low voice to my left makes me jump and I whirl around to see Brynjolf standing not five feet from me. The half-grin is there, but his green eyes flicker over me briefly with an expression I cannot read and in my surprise suddenly all I can think of is the fair Nord's hands on me and the whore on her knees - but in my head, it all gets mixed up and I picture myself as the whore and the red-haired thief as the Nord, his hands cupping my breasts while I take him in hand.

I feel my face flush and I hurry to retrieve the papers, now slightly crumpled, and hold them out to him. 'Here,' I say abruptly. 'He didn't notice.'

Brynjolf takes the papers from me. 'Nice work, Wren. I don't know how I would've got close enough to lift these.' He tucks them inside one of the pockets of his jacket. 'Can't say the lad was my type.'

I'm keenly conscious of the pleasured murmurings audible from the alley. 'Your type isn't drunk men?' I say flippantly. 'That's good to know.'

Brynjolf laughs, his eyes crinkling up. 'No, lass, that's definitely not my type. He seemed convinced he was yours, though. I've never seen a man climb a flight of stairs so fast. I wonder if he does everything with a woman in such haste.'

Brynjolf pulls a small coin purse from one of his pockets and pushes it into my hands. I take it eagerly, the weight feeling welcome in my hands, before I notice it's distinctly lighter than my own purse.

'Don't worry,' Brynjolf says before I can point this out. 'I'm not trying to cheat you. I just don't carry that much gold on me. The city's not safe, you know,' he says with a roguish grin that seems to send a shiver of nerves through me. 'There are thieves everywhere. Look, come with me and I'll get the rest of what I owe you.'

I hesitate, clutching the purse, suddenly afraid to venture into the dark maze of the city, conscious of the two cups of wine I have drunk and the way my heart seems to flutter nervously around the auburn-haired thief. 'It's all right,' I say. 'This is still enough to get me out of the city, so don't worry about the rest.'

'Out of the city?' Brynjolf repeats.

I nod and look down to tuck the coin purse safely into my satchel. The knife stares back out at me and I close my satchel quickly, not wanting to see it, not wanting to think about it.

The redhead is silent for a few moments, and when I look back up, a small frown is at his brow and his green eyes flicker over my face, slightly narrowed with some thought I cannot comprehend.

'You know,' he starts eventually, his tone even. 'There's always the opportunity to make more coin, if you're interested.'

I hesitate. 'You mean stealing more things?' I ask tentatively, and at Brynjolf's nod, I feel a nervous flutter in my stomach, having never considered a life of crime - although until recently, I had never really thought about any life beyond Honorhall. It was only ever a dream of a life, one I never thought possible for fear of being sold or having to remain in the orphanage to become a second Constance, too scared to leave the children to suffer Grelod's kindness alone.

'There's a lot of coin to be had,' Brynjolf adds lightly.

 _The gold felt good in my hands,_ I think, recalling its weight, its promise, its potential, tempting me more than I expected. _Besides, I've started my new life with murder, is a bit of thievery so wrong now?_

Brynjolf watches my face closely, not speaking. In the silence, I hear one of the men in the alley groan with satisfaction, the sound of his pleasure sending an uncomfortable chill through me. _Did the whore try thieving first?_ I wonder. The thought makes me feel cold.

'All right,' I say quickly, crossing my arms over my body. 'What do you want me to steal?'

'Easy, lass,' Brynjolf says, the half-smile pulling at his mouth. 'You've done enough for one night. Let's get you your coin and we'll go from there. Come on.' He turns and takes a step away from the tavern, before he pauses and looks back at me, the torchlight catching the bright green in his eyes. 'And stay close to me. Thieves aren't the only ones who wander Riften at night.'

With another grin, Brynjolf turns and sets off. My feet hesitate for a fraction of a moment before I follow, my heart thudding nervously, leaving the sounds of the whore and the men behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to whoever left kudos, you honestly have no idea how much that meant to me!! ♥


	3. A Welcome

Brynjolf leads me through a dark maze of alleys and streets. In the winding depths of the city, some streets are lit with dying torches, while some are simply at the mercy of moonlight. _And there are heavy clouds crowding the sky tonight,_ I think, as I follow close behind the red-haired thief. He seems unhindered by the darkness, moving swiftly and easily through the shadows as if the path is lit by bright sunlight. I don't have the same skill. Soon I lose any sense of bearings and I know I could sooner find my way to Elsweyr than I could retrace my steps back to the centre of the city; though I have lived in Riften for a decade, I have rarely explored it alone, or at night.

 _And yet here I am._ The thought frightens me, and as the fresh night air clears my head from the wine, I start to wonder what the hell I am doing. I take some comfort in the fact that we encounter no one beyond a few beggars hiding in the shadows, although I hear noises - voices and screams and laughter, among other sounds - from adjacent and nearby alleys. I can't be sure if we're just lucky we don't encounter anyone or if Brynjolf is purposefully leading me down safer paths.

Finally we come to an open area where silence hangs heavily. Far off ahead through the darkness, I see a single candle at the foot of a statue, illuminating a shrine. The distant candlelight is enough for me to see where Brynjolf has led me; tombstones loom out of the darkness and as I try to keep up with the thief, I nearly trip over a mound of earth. _A grave,_ I think. A strangely bitter smell fills my nose and my hand brushes against a flower or plant of some kind, but in the shadows I can't make it out, though I see it growing in clumps around the graves. The scent gnaws at something in my memory, but it slips through my mind before I can place it, leaving me with nothing but a sense of foreboding.

My nerves get the better of me, and I slow my pace, hesitant to follow any further. _Am I afraid of the dead?_ I tease myself, before I wonder suddenly if Grelod will be buried here when they find her.

'Why are we in a graveyard?' I whisper, speaking for the first time since we left the tavern.

Brynjolf stops abruptly and turns around. 'This is safe,' he says softly. 'You can trust me, Wren.'

'Trust you?' I repeat. The idea seems laughable. _Have I ever trusted anybody?_   'I don't even know you. And you're a thief.'

He laughs quietly, the sound sending a shiver through my body. 'True enough, I'm a thief. But I promise I'll never steal anything from you, lass.'

I get the sudden feeling that he is lying, or that there is some part of me that simply doesn't believe his words. I don't have time question or dwell on it, however, as Brynjolf turns and leads me further through the graveyard. I expect him to head towards the candlelit shrine but he cuts to the left, and as I follow I see a large open tomb loom out of the shadows.

'Hang on.' Brynjolf stops at the entrance to the tomb. 'I should ask, do you think you could find your way back here on your own?'

'No,' I say honestly. 'Why?'

'A precaution. In case I don't get my way and you have to forget this place existed. Come on.'

He doesn't give me a chance to question what he means, as he steps into the tomb and I hear a quiet clicking sound. A scraping noise cuts through the quiet of the graveyard and the back wall of the tomb drops down to reveal a tunnel that disappears down into pitch darkness, for gods only know how deep. I hear the faint sound of rushing water below.

'Trust me,' Brynjolf says, before I can even voice my fear. He looks at me, although I'm certain he can see me better than I can see him. 'I'm not leading you anywhere you're going to get hurt.'

Again I feel a flicker of unease, as if my body knows that whatever waits down beneath this tomb will hurt me. _But what's the alternative?_ I think, considering the possibility of trying to find my way through Riften's alleys back to the tavern, knowing I'll get hopelessly lost in seconds. _Or worse._

I nod once, and step up to the gap in the ground, watching Brynjolf hold onto the edge and lower himself down, presumably on a ladder, although my eyes are still not adjusted to the darkness and all I see is the shadowy shape of the thief's upper body above the gap.

'I can't really see anything,' I say, trying not to let my fear sound in my voice.

'That's all right, lass. Give me your hand.' I feel Brynjolf reach out and take my hand, guiding it to the edge and placing it on a rusted metal rung. 'Feel the ladder?'

I nod again, assuming he can see me.

'Hold on to it. It's not far down, and I'll be right ahead of you.' Though the darkness hides his face, I hear the smile in his voice. 'So if you fall, you'll land on me, all right?'

He lets go of my hand and he disappears down the tunnel. I sit on the edge and cling to the ladder as I lower myself down, my heart racing, and not just from the idea of lowering myself down into the unknown.

However, Brynjolf is right; the ladder is not too long, and as I descend, I hear the sound of rushing water growing louder. My worn leather shoes slip a little on the rusted metal but I keep my balance as I climb down and half a minute later I feel strong hands gently take my waist.

My heart skitters at the contact but I force myself to ignore it, as Brynjolf guides me down the last rungs and my feet hit cold stone. The passageway in which I find myself is dimly lit with a strange blue-white light.

'Just some steps now,' Brynjolf says, letting go of my waist.

'I'm sure even I can manage those,' I say.

He laughs quietly and leads the way on, after pulling a rusted chain on his left. I hear a scraping stone sound far above as the tomb closes once more. The short passageway leads down a series of steep steps and ends with a heavy metal door, lit overhead by a lantern emitting that strange pale glow that I assume to be some form of magelight. As we approach the door, I notice Brynjolf reach into one of his pockets and pull out a pair of lockpicks.

'Are you breaking in?' I ask, confused as he steps up to the door.

He laughs again. 'No, lass, but it's kind of an unspoken rule that if you can't break your way in here without damaging the lock, you're not welcome.' He pauses, his lockpicks poised. 'You any good at it?'

I hesitate. 'Probably not as good as you,' I say.

Brynjolf grins. 'Few are, lass. Give it a go, anyway.'

He holds out the lockpicks but I shake my head, not knowing how to work with those. I pull a pin from my hair and step up to the door, my heart beating anxiously with the challenge. _Imagine I'm leaving behind Grelod's dead body again_ , I tell myself as I set to work. The incentive has the effect I desire, as I suddenly remember what I am capable of. _Does picking a lock really compare with cutting a person's throat?_ I wonder, fully aware that the latter required of me more determination than skill, but nonetheless the thought calms my nerves considerably. Without my fingers slick and sticky with blood, I work faster and in about a minute I hear the lock click open.

'Nicely done.' Brynjolf steps up to the door and pushes it open. 'I reckon you'll fit in just fine, Wren.'

I try not to pay attention to the strange fluttering in my stomach as I hear the admiration in his voice. I follow him through the door, my footsteps slowing as my eyes take in the room where I find myself.

It is a huge circular cavern, with a high stone ceiling and walls that reverberate the sound of fast rushing water. On the far side, I see a waterfall pouring down one of the walls, the water running through a gulley into a large pool of water in the centre. Stone walkways cross over the pool, leading to four alcoved areas of the cavern. The place is dimly lit by lanterns of both natural candlelight and pale magelight, and as I follow Brynjolf across the stone walkway, I see beds around the edge of the room – only afew are occupied, but the sight of these unknown people still sets my heart racing fast.

My unsteady heart doesn't relax as Brynjolf leads me over the water and to the alcove on the far side of the cavern, which is lit brighter than the rest of the place, presumably because this is the only area of the cavern where someone appears to be awake. A tall broad-shouldered man leans over a wide desk; the surface is littered with papers and gold coins are stacked messily on one side, next to a candle nearly burned out. As we approach, the man behind the desk looks up. His brown hair is short and he wears similar clothing to Brynjolf, a lightly armoured black jacket with an array of pockets. The candlelight dances over the hard lines of his face as he leans over the desk; a little older than Brynjolf, I see more than one scar on his face and there are dark shadows beneath the deep-set brown eyes. Those eyes flicker past Brynjolf and onto me, narrowing as they watch me approach, and suddenly I feel about half my size.

He straightens up and inclines his head as we come to stand in front of the desk. I notice he has a dagger at each hip, a pair of solid golden blades - and the look he gives me is just as deadly. The way his dark gaze slowly moves up and down my body sets my heart racing with nerves although he's yet to say a word. His eyes take in the way my shirt pulls tight over the curve of my breasts, the messy curls of my hair escaping its dwindling pins, the shape of my legs in their boy's trousers. He looks at the satchel at my side, seemingly weighing the contents with his eyes and finding it unimpressive. A small frown appears at his dark brow before his gaze moves over my body again.

I fold my arms across my chest, feeling cold and uneasy.

Brynjolf pulls out the papers from his pocket. 'Here. The Withercroft deeds.' He drops them on the desk. 'And the sorry bastard is now carrying the false papers. You can thank Wren here for it, although I'd like a finder's fee, if you think we can stretch to it.'

His tone is light and joking but the man behind the desk doesn't seem to want to engage in banter. He turns to Brynjolf. 'I told you to outsource it,' the man says. His voice is low and hard.

'Which I did.' Brynjolf gestures to me. 'Outsourced. Wren is new to the area. The drunken fool never saw her coming.' A small half-smile pulls at his mouth and his green eyes flicker back to me. 'Although I'm sure he thought he was going to, eh, lass?'

'I said outsource, not bring me some waif into our fucking headquarters.' The man's hard gaze moves over me once more and I suddenly feel stripped beneath his commanding stare. 'What is she doing here, Brynjolf?'

'She's here for her payment,' Brynjolf says. 'And a place to stay. I think she might be useful to the Guild.'

'Did you?' The man seems unimpressed. 'And does she have any skills at all or is this you thinking with your cock rather than your head?'

'Please, Mercer, you know me better than that.' Brynjolf's voice is still light and easy and I can't tell if his words are meant sarcastically or not. 'Look, she's small and quick and wants to make some gold. She did the job clean and fast, and she unlocked the Cistern without so much as a single broken pick. It wouldn't hurt to have a new face around here, would it? Anything she doesn't know, she'll learn.'

'I don't have time to play teacher and neither do you,' snaps the man I assume to be named Mercer. 'What good is she to me? So she stole from an idiot too fucking drunk to notice where her hands were going. Any whore with half a mind could manage the same thing.'

The ice in his words makes irritation flare in my stomach suddenly. 'Yet somehow none of you could get those papers yourselves,' I say before I can stop myself. 'And I'm not a whore,' I add sharply, standing up straighter to try to seem a little taller.

The man's hard gaze turns onto me. He looks me up and down again, slowly, as if deliberating some thought I cannot fathom. His gaze lingers over my tight clothing, effectively diminishing me back down to feel half my size in moments. A small smirk forms at his lips. 'So brave for a little bird,' he says softly. He looks at me for a second longer before his smile vanishes and he turns back to Brynjolf. 'Fine. Since you're so certain she'll be useful, I'll give her a week. If by then she hasn't made us back what you've paid her, she's out. Take her to Delvin. He can deal with her.'

'I'll see that she settles in,' Brynjolf says swiftly.

Mercer surveys him for a moment, and I see a small calculating frown flicker across his face before he shrugs. 'Entertain yourself however you want, Brynjolf, as long as you don't forget what you're supposed to be doing here.' His eyes move back onto me. 'And I'd advise you learn quick, Wren. You've got seven days to prove your worth or you're out of here.'

He turns his gaze back down to the papers on his desk.

'Come on, Mercer, you can do better than that,' Brynjolf says. 'When Thrynn joined, you near enough shook the man's bloody hand.'

'Thrynn brought me three grand's worth of loot from the caravans he robbed on his way here.' Mercer doesn't look up. 'Your little bird has started at a loss. She better make up for it.'

Brynjolf rolls his eyes. 'How about you just trust me, eh? She'll be good for this place. So welcome her to the family properly, would you?'

Mercer makes an irritated sigh before he looks back at me. 'Fine. Seeing as Brynjolf is so confident in your abilities, I'll just have to take his word for it until I can see them for myself. Whatever he's told you about this place, it doesn't matter. It's simple. You do as you're told and bring in gold and this place will be the best thing that ever happened to you. I can guarantee that.' The small smirk returns to his mouth, though his dark eyes remain ice cold. 'Welcome to the Thieves Guild, Wren.'

I feel a jolt of apprehension in my lower stomach. 'Thank you,' I say, but he has already turned his gaze back down to the papers on his desk.

'Come on, lass, you should meet Delvin before turning in.' Brynjolf goes to move away from the desk before he pauses. 'Oh, and your pay.' He scoops up one of the piles of coins off the desk and holds them out to me, still neatly stacked flat in his palm.

I half expect Mercer to look up and object, but he doesn't react at all. _Brynjolf isn't just a lackey here,_ I realise, before I wonder for a moment what would happen if I grabbed some of the coins without being offered.

'Thanks.' I open my satchel and retrieve my coin purse, letting Brynjolf drop the coins on top of my stolen gold. _Except these new coins are probably stolen too, aren't they?_

I'm more than willing to leave the desk and follow Brynjolf back across the cavern, although I have the distinct feeling of being watched by a pair of dark hard eyes as I walk away. The thought sends an uncomfortable shiver down my back.

'Ragged Flagon's just through here,' Brynjolf says, leading me to a storage area off to the left of the pool.

'The Ragged Flagon?' I repeat, the name of the tavern familiar to me. _As are the stories,_ I think. I remember how two of the older boys from the orphanage broke out one night and came back with the dawn, drunk, with five bottles of skooma and three broken bones between them.

Some of my concern must come through in my voice, as Brynjolf laughs a quick laugh as he leads me past piles of sacks, crates and lockboxes to a wooden door at the back of the alcove. 'Ah, don't believe the tales. We don't get that much trouble there. A few brawls over gold, the occasional knife fight, maybe.' He stops by the door and turns back to the look at me, grinning. 'But you'll probably handle yourself well in those, won't you? With that blade of yours, you could probably take out at least two guildmembers that I can think of.'

'I doubt that, I'm not much of a fighter,' I say, as if I've ever actually fought before. _Unless you count fighting back, and failing. Or cutting an old woman's neck._ 'It's just for defence.'

'You need better defence,' Brynjolf says. 'We'll find you a real weapon tomorrow. And make sure you know how to use it. We work in the shadows here, and Mercer and I would rather you didn't get your hands bloody. It tends to bloody the gold too.' He shrugs. 'But sometimes the shadows try to kill you, and if they do, you should know how to kill them first.'

I watch as he turns back to the door and pushes it open. 'No lockpicks needed to get in this way?' I ask as he steps aside to let me pass into a hallway and shuts the door behind us.

'No, we like drinking too much to bother with all that,' Brynjolf replies lightly, turning to face me. 'Plus Vekel will knock you flat if you try getting into the Cistern from his side without his say so.'

'Well, I can't wait to meet him next,' I say sarcastically before I can stop myself.

Brynjolf laughs. 'You pay your tab and Vekel will be your best friend, I swear.' He pauses. 'And don't mind Mercer. Just bring him gold and don't piss him off and you'll be fine.'

 _Will I?_ I wonder, thinking how I've already started off by taking a stack of his gold. 'That's a fair enough rule,' I say cautiously. 'Seems like everything pisses him off, though.'

The redhead shrugs. 'Eh, he's stressed. Guildmembers are starting to believe Delvin's stories about a curse and it's becoming a standard excuse for anyone failing to bring in coin.' Brynjolf sighs. 'Though the way things are going, I'm starting to believe him too.'

'A curse?' I repeat dubiously, not taking him for the superstitious type. 'What sort of curse?'

Brynjolf shakes his head, a weary expression on his face. 'Another time, lass, it's too late in the night for all that. But let's just say I'm glad you switched those deeds for us without any problems. Mercer might not have shown his gratitude but we needed that done fast and clean and by someone not known to be associated with the Guild.' A smile pulls at his mouth. 'By the time the mark figures out who you're now working for, the damage will be done. You did well.' His eyes hold mine. 'Maybe we're not so cursed after all, if I was lucky enough to find you.'

Under his gaze I feel my heart skip nervously, his words unsettling me. 'I'm sure anyone else in that tavern could've done what I did,' I say quickly. 'The serving girl did say she'd fulfil any need you had of her.'

Brynjolf scoffs. 'I don't know, she probably would've let him bed her and completely forgotten about the papers.'

I make a small laugh, conscious of that fragile moment when I nearly did that exact thing. 'Well, then maybe it was lucky I was there,' I say lightly.

'Oh, I know it was.' His eyes flicker over my face for a moment before a quick smile appears at his mouth. 'Anyway, come on. You must be tired. Meet Delvin and then we'll get you to bed, lass.'

I feel a strange flip in my stomach with his words but I have no time to think about it as Brynjolf turns and leads the way down the short hallway, pushing open the door at the end to reveal a cavernous room not unlike the one we have just left. I see a pool of water on the far side, though it is too dark for me to make out much beyond it.

 _It doesn't quite live up to the stories,_ I think. I half-expected it to be like the Bee and Barb, full of life and noise, even at this late hour. The place is barren, dark, and cold. _Really fucking cold,_ I think, hugging my arms around my body, feeling the chill in my exposed ankles and through my thin shirt as I follow Brynjolf through the Flagon, my footsteps echoing in the dark hidden recesses. It is almost as quiet as the graveyard; the water in the far-off pool is still, and the few shadowy shapes of people I see around the tables seem to fall silent as I pass. _And I thought Mercer was unwelcoming._ I don't see faces. Most of the tables are unoccupied and those that aren't are the tables furthest removed from the light.

I follow Brynjolf as he leads me to the bar, above which hang half a dozen lanterns. There is no one behind the bar, but at the far end I see a hooded figure sitting alone, staring into a clear glass of some purplish liquid. Right in middle of the bar sits a man wearing the same armour as Brynjolf and Mercer, with dark greying hair shaved to the quick and deep furrows at his brow, one big hand cupped around a tankard, a crumpled note in the other.

'Fucking cats,' he mutters, as Brynjolf stops beside him.

'Gnives giving you grief?' the redhead says.

'Grief? I just lost a hundred septims to that damn shadowfur.' He has a broad thick accent and swears again under his breath as he screws up the note in his hand. 'Here's hoping the bastard never makes it back from Windhelm to claim his coin.'

Brynjolf laughs. 'You know you were a fool to bet against him, Del. Have you seen Sapphire, by the way? She's not in the Cistern and I'd like a word.'

'She's off claiming a debt.' The man drinks deep from his tankard. 'Horses are stubborn with their gold, apparently.'

Brynjolf sighs. 'Keep an eye on it for me, would you? I get the feeling she's working him for more than we'll ever see and if Mercer catches on, I'll never hear the end of it.'

'Aye, Bryn, I'll keep an eye on it.' The man turns around and his gaze flickers over to me. 'And who's this lovely creature?'

'Wren, our newest recruit.' Brynjolf turns to me. 'Wren, this is Delvin Mallory. Delvin handles the jobs and coin for the Guild. If there's any work to be had, or if there's anything you need to know, he's your man. Or if you want to get flattered mercilessly til your head hurts.'

Delvin scowls at the thief before he turns to me and his face softens into a wide grin. 'I prefer _pleasurably_ flattered to _mercilessly_ , sweetheart. But other than that, Brynjolf's got it about right. I'm the most important man around here. And unlike some guildmembers, I know how to treat a lady.' He stands up and holds out his hand. I unfold my arms and take it cautiously, and he brings my hand to his lips in a light kiss. I don't miss the direction of his gaze as his eyes flicker over my body and back up to my face, but he lets go of my hand quickly and sits back down with an easy grin, his gaze firmly back on my eyes. 'I'd wager you haven't had as gentlemanly a welcome from any other guildmembers.'

'Give us a chance, she's only met me and Mercer,' Brynjolf says. 'And since when am I anything but the perfect gentleman?'

The older man snorts with laughter. 'Didn't give the lady a kiss on the hand, did you?'

'Well, I didn't get the opportunity to play the dashing hero,' Brynjolf says.

 _Didn't he?_ I think, remembering how he intervened with the men outside the tavern. I feel a sudden flicker of curiosity over how I would've reacted had the red-haired thief kissed my hand instead of putting a coin into it.

'He did give me gold, though,' I tell Delvin, to his laughter.

'And that's a nice greeting,' Brynjolf says swiftly before Delvin can say a word. 'Everyone likes gold.'

Delvin scoffs and looks back at me. 'All right, let me guess. The lad just plucked you out of your life with naught but the promise of wealth and septims aplenty, and now you find yourself here without a clue which way is up?'

'Sounds about right,' I say with a small smile as I hear Brynjolf sigh.

Delvin grins widely. 'Well, don't worry. You can count on me, sweetheart. You need anything, information, work, coin, a friendly ear, I'm the one you come to, all right? And I guarantee I'm the most handsome and charming company you'll get around here.'

'The lass can make that judgement herself,' Brynjolf says.

'Aye, I hope she does.' Delvin gestures to the barstool beside him. 'Take a seat, Wren, let's get better acquainted. What's your pleasure? Mead? Wine?'

'Its been a long night,' Brynjolf says. 'Give her a chance to catch her breath, eh? I just wanted her to meet you so she knows there's more to the Guild than just me and Mercer.'

'Thank the gods you did.' Delvin looks seriously at me. 'First thing to tell you, sweetheart. Those two sorry bastards have it all wrong. They think life's all about coin. Whereas I know the value of other pleasures, like a good pint of ale, a warm bed, the smile of a beautiful young woman.'

'But can't coin buy those things?' I point out, with a smile.

Delvin laughs raucously, the sound echoing in the dark corners of the Flagon. 'Oh, you'll fit right in around here,' he says. 'Aye, you'll do just fine. Come see me tomorrow once you've got your bearings, I've a couple of jobs that might interest you. Local, easy, enough to get your feet wet and your purse a little fuller. So don't fret, sweetheart. You'll be feeling at home here in no time, all right?'

'Thank you,' I say, feeling oddly comforted by the stranger's words. _Maybe purely because the welcome I got from Mercer was so discomforting,_ I think, still feeling his hard gaze on me.

'Such manners, lovely little bird,' Delvin murmurs as he brings his tankard to his mouth once more. 'You don't hear many thank yous down here.'

'All right, well, thanks for the chat, Delvin,' Brynjolf says briskly, to older thief's snort of laughter.

'Smart little shit,' Delvin says into his tankard.

'And that's more like the manners we have down here. Come on, lass.' I feel Brynjolf's hand briefly at the small of my back. 'You need to sleep or you'll be no good to anyone tomorrow.'

The touch of his hand makes my heart jump and suddenly any comfort I felt at Delvin's reassurances disappears. I remain on edge as Brynjolf leads the way back through the Ragged Flagon and into the Cistern once more, the sound of rushing water filling my ears again. I glance across the room and notice the desk is now empty, though the candle has not yet died out.

A moment later, Brynjolf stops beside an empty bed tucked up against the wall and turns to look at me. 'Here. I'd say take your pick of the empty beds but your fellow guildmembers can be territorial, the cat least of all.' He gestures with his foot beneath the bed, where I see a small chest. 'Guild rules, whatever's under your bed is yours. We don't steal from each other. And it's safe to sleep here. No one's getting through the Flagon or the tomb, I assure you.'

'Sleep here?' The thought of sleeping next to all these strangers makes my heart thud anxiously. _It's not like I'll be sleeping in their beds,_ I tell myself firmly, but the thought only makes my heart beat faster, thinking of Honorhall, thinking of Grelod's private room and the bed, the shutters on the windows, the creak of the door; suddenly the memories flood me and I cannot decide which guests were worse, the ones that wanted to touch and be touched or the ones that wanted to sleep beside a frightened child all night.

Brynjolf notices my reluctance, although I'm confident he can't know why. 'If you want me to take you back to the Bee and Barb, I will,' he says softly. 'Whatever you want, Wren.' He inclines his head, his smile not faltering but his eyes searching mine with some expression I cannot discern. 'I suppose you might prefer to conclude that bit of business with the charming Nord waiting for you in your room.'

The thought of the events of earlier shake me back into the present. _I killed Grelod and I'll never see one of her guests again. What I'm afraid of are ghosts and memories._

'I don't,' I answer firmly, not wanting to think on the part of me that seemed to enjoy kissing the fair Nord and how eagerly my body reacted beneath his drunken touch.

Brynjolf's smile makes me forget that part of me existed. 'Then his loss is my gain,' he says. 'Poor man. If I didn't know him better, I'd feel sorry for him still waiting there for you.'

'I doubt he'd still be waiting,' I say.

'Aye, he would,' Brynjolf says. 'Now get some sleep, if you can. You'll get used to the sound of water pretty quick.'

'I don't mind it,' I say. _It reminds me of home,_ I think before I stop myself, my stomach hollow for a moment before I push the thought aside. _I'd rather dwell on Grelod's dripping torn throat and every fucking guest than think of home._

Brynjolf's eyes crinkle up as he smiles. 'Then sleep well, Wren. And welcome to the Guild.'

'Thank you,' I say quickly as he goes to turn away, suddenly afraid for him to leave me alone in this unfamiliar place, but I have no idea how to ask him to stay, or why I should want to, when he is as unfamiliar as the place in which I find myself.

'That's all right, lass.' Brynjolf gives me another grin before turning and heading back the way we came. I watch him disappear into the shadows and a few moments later I hear the door to the Ragged Flagon open and close behind him.

I stand for a few moments, frozen, poised, prepared for someone to jump out of the shadows. When several long seconds pass, and then a minute, I feel my rapid heart rate start to settle. For a while I stand there, seeing no movement and hearing nothing but the water and the faint sounds of someone snoring. Eventually, tentatively, I sit down cross-legged on the bed.

I clutch my satchel in my lap, feeling my intense exhaustion for the first time but uncertainty rushing more keenly through me as I wonder what the hell I am doing here. _I was supposed to get out of the city,_ I think, not sure how or why I have ended up in a dark underground cavern as the newest member of a guild of thieves. _Gold, that's why._ I open my satchel and look at my coins, thinking how easy it was – if I can get this in a day, in a week I could have enough coin to take me anywhere in Skyrim and start a new life far away from Riften and the past.

My eyes slide to the knife still tucked beside my coin purse. _Was it only a couple of hours ago that I cut Grelod's throat and left Honorhall?_ Suddenly I think of Lily. _She'll be fast asleep right now,_ I tell myself firmly, not letting myself imagine her crying out for her mother, for some comfort in the cold orphanage, for a story with a happy ending. I quickly look at my coins again, dipping my hand into my purse and feeling the cold solid shapes to distract myself from my thoughts, but before I can help it, my eyes slide back to my knife. _I'll go a_ _s far away as possible,_ I remind myself as I lean back against the wall, listening to the water. _And soon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just going to say it again, thank you for the kudos, it means so much to know someone is enjoying this even a little ♥  
> Also I'm trying my hardest to cut these scenes down and get to the good shit but I'm terrible at being concise, just hang on in there and we'll get to some decent scenes eventually :)


	4. The Guild

_I_ _follow the trail of gold as it leads me from my bed through the Cistern; someone's turned the cavern into a maze,_ _a game,_ _a hunt. Occasionally_ _the trail disappears and I make a note to_ _let_ _Delvin_ _know_ _; missing coins are bad._ _I decide to tell him in the morning._

 _But it's evernight here, and I know the gag in my mouth will stop me telling anyone anything._ _The silence is deafening_ _. I find myself before a locked door. It opens at my touch and I enter, Lynna following at my heels._

 _'You should've seen her face,' the Imperial says. She has hair like_ _spun_ _gold and eyes that glitter, though the light is dim and fading. 'Some people look better dead._ _You proved that.'_

_I try to tell Lynna to shut up, I have to focus if I'm going to get the gold, but no words come from my lips.  
_

_Inside is empty, stripped,_ _with nothing of value left_ _._ _I'm too late._ _My disappointment cuts fierce through me. I've yet to fail a job and this one was important; I start to panic that I will not be able to explain myself, the gag_ _suddenly_ _tightening in my mouth, cutting into my skin, starting to choke the air from my lungs._

 _'Well, you can always come with me,' Lynna says. I turn to look at her,_ _horror filling my heart, knowing where she has ended up, knowing she must serve drinks and serve men_ _._ _She smiles. 'Come, little bird.'_

 _Then_ _I feel fingers trace_ _lightly_ _over my_ _bare_ _shoulders_ _and I turn around._ _'Rune?' I try to say, but_ _beneath the gag_ _my voice is naught but a_ _faint_ _moan_ _._

 _'You've got to practise,' Rune says. I go to reach for my daggers but he shakes his head, laughing._ _His blue eyes_ _hold mine_ _for a moment before t_ _he dark blond thief dips his head and kisses_ _my neck, his lips gentle, his tongue cold_ _over my skin_ _._

 _I like it too much and I_ _gasp against the gag_ _with the intense pleasure._ _My hands_ _reach out for him_ _,_ _wanting,_ _but_ _he_ _pulls away,_ _and_ _pulls two daggers from his sleeves. They glint_ _in_ _bright_ _light,_ _though the lanterns in the room are burning out, and I shield my eyes._

 _'We don't want to hurt you, sweetheart,'_ _he says, although I see only him, and I know he wouldn't hurt me_ _, and I know he would never call me sweetheart._

 _I look around and find the room is s_ _uddenly_ _crowded. I don't recognise faces, except one. I turn away, not wanting to see, not wanting to hear, trying to find Rune again but he has disappeared._

 _'Please-' I start,_ _my chest tight, the word escaping the gag as a choked gurgle._

 _'Please, please, please don't hurt me,'_ _t_ _he old woman's voice cries mockingly in my ear, her words, and mine. I turn to_ _look,_ _finding her changed_ _by death_ _; her limbs sinewy, her nose a beak, the hagraven_ _I hunted_ _._

 _I_ _pull away and_ _grab desperately for_ _Lynna's hand,_ _but_ _she vanishes._ _I push through the bodies, slow, my limbs dragging as I try to get to_ _the doo_ _r; it_ _is locked_ _again_ _. I_ _stagger down_ _to my knees and reach up for pins but they're_ _not_ _in my hair, and the touch of my fingers scrapes rough at my scalp._ _I look down at my hands,_ _my nails turned to talons; I try to use my claws to unlock the door,_ _but_ _before I can get out_ _I feel hard hands on my shoulders, pulling me backwards, falling_ _through the darkness that engulfs the room._

_'Try flying next time,' a voice whispers, low and hard. 'Try-'_

 

I wake with a jolt and in a cold sweat, my heart beating louder than the crashing water. My skin is hot and sticky, my mouth choked with the edge of my pillow. I push myself up abruptly, gasping for breath and untangling myself from my sheets, needing to get away, to get free. _To wake up_ _,_ I think vaguely and I stumble out of bed, still half asleep, and find my way across the Cistern to the water room off one of the alcoves.

Once inside, I lock the door behind me, feeling glad somewhere in my half-consciousness that so far the thieves seem to respect the lock on this door, at least. I strip off my nightshirt and walk barefooted over the grated floor, coming to stand beneath the flow of water that pours warm from the pipe above. The water wakes me up as it washes the cool sweat from my body, my panicked heart rate slowly settling down.

 _Just a stupid dream,_ I think as my mind clears. _Another one._ I tilt my head back and let the water rush over my face, trying not to think about it, knowing the images will fade by the morning if I don't let them linger in my mind.

I stand under the water until I feel calm enough to go back to bed, at which point I realise I didn't bring anything to dry myself with, so I do my best to wring out my hair before putting my nightshirt back on over my wet body. I unlock the door to the Cistern.

More awake now, my vision and head cleared by the water, I look across the Cistern and realise with a sharp jolt that the Guildmaster is at his desk, the candles still burning bright. His jacket discarded, the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows, his forearms exposed and taut as he leans over his desk. As soon I step out of the water room, he looks up at me and our eyes meet. I stop abruptly at the sight of him, caught off-guard, wondering how I walked right past him before. I stand frozen as his dark eyes take in my appearance slowly, deliberately, and I'm suddenly conscious of the way my shirt clings to my dripping wet body, the hem of the garment reaching only to the tops of my thighs, the ties at my chest loose and the thin material sticking to the shape of my breasts.

My cheeks flush red as I see the smirk form at Mercer's mouth as his gaze flickers back up to my face, and I realise I have been standing there for several long seconds under his stare.

Quickly, I wrap my arms across my body and take the long way around the pool to my bed, not wanting to pass by his desk. I keep my eyes directed at the stone floor, half-wishing for it to collapse beneath me and for me to fall into the dark oblivion as I did in my dream.

I get back into bed and huddle wet beneath the covers, wanting to put on something dry but not wanting to take off my nightshirt to do so, feeling the effects of the Guildmaster's gaze as keenly as if he is still watching me. I roll over and face the wall, thinking of my dream and starting to wonder if I had talked in my sleep. _Or making any other sounds_. I blush with the possibility, although my embarrassment vanishes beneath a discomforting sense of unease when I consider the thought of Mercer Frey being awake while I sleep oblivious and defenceless. A strange shiver runs down my back and I don't even consider trying to fall asleep again until I hear footsteps across the Cistern and the sound of a door slamming.

 

*

 

'Easy,' Sapphire says. 'Keep your arms steady.'

'I'm trying,' I say, irritably.

'Trying and failing.' The raven-haired thief sighs. 'Shoot it, then.'

The three thieves watch as I let an arrow fly. It misses the target and ricochets weakly off the stone wall, disappearing somewhere behind one of the chests.

'Fuck,' I say under my breath, as I hear Sapphire make a quiet snort of laughter from where she watches atop the straw bales.

'You need to learn from a real archer.' Niruin steps forward with his bow in hand. 'May I?' He doesn't wait for a response as he nocks an arrow and I hear the thrum as it hits the target. When I turn to look, I see the arrow is dead centre.

Sapphire sighs. 'Do you always have to show off, elf?'

Niruin laughs his high bright laugh as he turns to look at her. 'I do it to impress you, my goddess. One day I hope you'll realise that claiming your heart and affections is my true target.'

'Go pick up your arrow, fetcher,' Sapphire says coldly, glaring at him with her hazel eyes.

Unfazed as always, the Bosmer bows with a flourish. 'As my goddess commands,' he says before he walks to the target and retrieves his arrow. He looks around. 'Now, where was yours, little bird? Somewhere in the Flagon?'

'Maybe if you were the target, I'd shoot better,' I say, frustrated that after four weeks of training, I still miss half my shots. 'Let's just face it, I'm never going to be good at this.'

Rune comes to stand beside me. 'Don't worry yourself, Wren,' he says. 'You have enough other talents that more than make up for not being an expert archer.'

I feel a flutter of appreciation at his compliment. 'Thank you, Rune,' I say with a smile, and the dark blond thief returns my smile with his own, the look in his eyes sincere. Though he has barely a year's more experience in the Guild than I do, I let myself believe his reassuring words. _They're always as sincere_ _and kind_ _as the look in his eyes,_ I think. Suddenly, last night's dream comes to mind, and I flush when I realise the best part was when he was kissing my neck. _A stupid dream,_ I remind myself, knowing that my interest in Rune goes no further than friendship, but even as I think it, I remember how his mouth felt against my skin, and how the contact pleased me, even for only a second.

'You know, you probably are too weak to use a bow,' Sapphire says to me, and at my frown she hurries to clarify. 'I mean small. Delicate. Fragile.'

'And that's better than weak?' I ask, not liking the idea of being seen as weak or fragile, knowing what happens to those who cannot defend themselves. I hold the bow out to Niruin. 'I give up with these lessons. Take it. Shoot both at once, seeing as you're such a bloody expert.'

'An expert?' Niruin repeats in horror as if I've spat on him. 'I'm a _master_ marksman, I'll have you know. There's not one person in this festering city that could shoot an arrow like I can.'

'Then I'm a fool for trying to compare with you, aren't I?' I say flippantly. 'Take the damn bow, elf, my poor weak arms can't hold it for very long.'

Niruin snorts with laughter. 'Hey, Sapphire was the one who called you weak.' He takes the bow from my hands and turns around to the dark-haired thief, who glares at him. 'Cruel goddess that she is.'

'I can be crueller,' Sapphire informs him. Her slender pale hands gesture to her thigh and the dagger fastened there. 'Keep calling me a goddess and I'll cut your tongue out.'

'My tongue would be glad to belong to such a creature as yourself.' Niruin grins. 'And I assure you, you'll find it to your liking.'

'Come on, Wren,' Sapphire says to me, ignoring his words as she jumps down from the straw bales and walks over to me. 'Let's get a drink. And no,' she adds to the wood elf as he moves to follow her. 'You're not welcome. And neither are you, Rune.'

Rune holds up his hands as her cold gaze dares him to argue. 'I wasn't asking, Saph,' he says lightly. His deep blue eyes move to me. 'Want to practise your daggerwork again tomorrow, then?'

I nod, grateful for his efforts over the past month. _At least I'm strong enough to handle a blade,_ I think. The pair of small steel daggers at my thighs have cut nothing more than the training dummy so far, but I use them well enough – and I have a lot of potential, as Rune insists. He assures me I'm more than capable of defending myself should a job go awry. I only nod and smile gratefully whenever he says it, already conscious of what I am capable of. _But murdering someone in their bed is different to defending myself in combat._

Niruin's eyes follow Sapphire as we head for the door. 'Maybe you'll permit me to practise my daggerwork as well, fair creature.' I don't look around but I hear the smile in his voice. 'In your bed tonight.'

Sapphire doesn't turn around either. 'You come anywhere near my bed and I'll make sure it's the last time you draw that dagger of yours,' she says as she pushes open the door to the training room.

The elf's laughter rings out into the Cistern. 'You wouldn't say such things if you witnessed my skills,' he calls after her. 'One day, sweet Sapphire, one day.'

'Not going to happen.' Sapphire lets the door swing shut behind us, cutting off Niruin's laughter with a sharp slam.

I hurry to follow her as she strides through the Cistern, our echoing footsteps drowned by the crashing water and the sounds of Thrynn and Vex in the kitchen area arguing loudly over a failed job. As we pass, I don't strain my ears to try to hear the details, knowing the basics well enough by now; for every success, the Guild seems to run into trouble, with lost shipments, wrong information, and worthless goods. I feel a flicker of satisfaction that my jobs, though small, have been steady and clean, and the stash of gold beneath my bed is slowly growing. _There's more than enough coin there to get me out of Riften._ The thought, although comforting, also disconcerts me. _There has been enough there for a while, and yet I'm still here._

At this time between dusk and nightfall, the Cistern is almost deserted. The beds are empty, save for the one set furthest back from the water, where Gnives is curled up and sleeping soundly, waiting for the night to fall. As Sapphire and I come to the pool's edge, I look across the water and see Mercer at his desk, and even at the distance I see the furrow at his brow as he scowls over the documents spread before him. My interactions with the Guildmaster have been non-existent since my first week was up and he icily declared I could stay in the Guild as long as I continued to bring in coin and kept in line. _Thank the gods that line has required me to be nowhere near Mercer Frey,_ I think as I watch him frown over his work, immensely grateful that I get my jobs from Delvin and don't have to report back to the Guildmaster at all.

As if he hears my thoughts, Mercer looks up suddenly and his dark hard eyes meet mine. I look away quickly and turn my attention back to Sapphire, my cheeks flushing violently, remembering what happened after I woke from my dream clearer than I remember the dream itself. As Sapphire and I walk towards the door to the Ragged Flagon, I'm conscious of the Guildmaster's gaze following me and suddenly I feel like I am wearing nothing but my wet nightshirt again, my skin exposed to him, my body as good as naked. _Pretend that was part of the dream too,_ I tell myself, swiftly deciding to forget it ever happened.

'You know, I don't think Niruin will admit defeat any time soon,' I say to Sapphire. 'He's persistent, you have to give him that.'

'Persistent, and pushing his luck,' Sapphire says shortly. 'If he keeps it up, I'll slit his throat.'

I don't reply, not doubting her. I'm confident the Bosmer means little harm but I understand Sapphire's disinterest in encouraging him, or indeed any of the other guildmembers who like to try their luck with the pretty raven-haired thief. I take a quick sideways glance at her and see that her face is scrunched in a scowl to rival Mercer's. I don't push the conversation, knowing the thoughts likely running though her mind.

 _The others don't know, though, and so they keep pushing._ I feel a keen sense of relief that the thieves in the Cistern are generally suspicious and most of the other guildmembers are still too wary of the new blood to try their luck beyond the occasional remark or drunken proposition. _And those are easy enough to brush off,_ I think. _Far easier than the memories._ I glance at Sapphire again as we leave the Cistern and head into the Ragged Flagon, knowing the raven-haired thief has memories of her own that are as difficult to forget as mine.

'Ah, my two favourite women.' At his usual place at the bar, tankard in hand and papers stacked before him, Delvin turns to us with a wide grin as Sapphire and I wait to get drinks. He gives me a wink before his eyes flicker over to Sapphire. 'And what're you doing here, sweetheart? Aren't you supposed to be running a job for me tonight?'

'Give me a minute, old man,' Sapphire snaps. 'Can't I get a drink first?'

Delvin chuckles at her as Vekel appears behind the bar and I put down coins for two cups of wine. 'I'm not stopping you, love,' Delvin says to Sapphire. 'But you know how I feel about drinking on the job.'

'Technically you're always drinking on the job,' I point out, nodding at the papers in front of him.

The old thief's laughter echoes in the recesses of the Flagon. 'Aye, bird, suppose you're right about that.' He raises his tankard and drinks before his eyes return to the raven-haired thief. 'Just make it quick, Saph. People don't rob themselves, you know.'

She rolls her eyes and picks up the cups Vekel places on the bar before us. 'Come on,' she says to me, and we leave Delvin chuckling while we find a nearby table.

Sapphire drinks in silence while I look around the near-empty Flagon, listening to the quiet murmurings and the gently lapping water of the dark pool. Though united by a common interest in hiding from the law, the clientele of the Ragged Flagon is varied. One afternoon, I walked into the Flagon to get work from Delvin and could barely fight my way to the bar through the throng of people wanting to drink, gamble and sell wares. The next day, the place was deserted save for a couple of guildmembers playing cards. I quickly became used to the unpredictability of the place, just as I learned fast that there is no schedule to the dealings of the Guild. My first day, I half-expected a regime like at Honorhall, for doors to lock and rules to be laid down. _But I suppose locking doors wouldn't work here._

I hear sudden laughter and I look over to the source; evidently finished reprimanding Thrynn, Vex has arrived in the Flagon and taken the stool beside Delvin at the bar, one leg crossed over the other, her glass dagger fastened at her hip.

'If you think this counts as a come-on, you're stupider than you look,' the blonde thief says, as Vekel puts a bottle of mead before her.

'Sweetheart, of a hundred other places you could sit, you chose the one next to me.' Delvin slips a few coins to Vekel. 'Let me get that for you, darlin'.'

'I can pay for myself,' Vex snaps, slapping his hand away. 'And I'm here for business, you cretin, not to have you drool over me. That shipment we arranged for Thrynn got intercepted before he arrived. Just who have you been running your mouth to?'

'Running my mouth?' Delvin sighs. 'Vex, you know me better than that.'

The blonde's delicate pointed features arrange into a scowl. 'Well, someone got to the mark before we did, and I sure as hell didn't let anything slip.'

'So I must have?' Delvin brings his tankard to his mouth. 'Have a drink and calm yourself down, love. Then we'll talk.'

Vex doesn't seem inclined to agree. In my short time at the Guild, I have quickly learnt that her white-blonde hair is matched by her white-hot temper, having been at the receiving end of her vicious tongue more than once - for taking an extra hour on a job or bringing her goods she deemed worthless, or just looking at her the wrong way. _Another good reason for getting my_ _work_ _from Delvin rather than anyone else,_ I think, returning my attention to my drink as Vex starts laying into Delvin about the failed job.

I'm almost at the bottom of my cup when a short while later my eyes are suddenly drawn to the entrance to the Cistern and I see Brynjolf cut through the Flagon, heading towards the bar. As I watch the auburn-haired thief stop beside Delvin and Vex and interrupt their bickering, I feel the familiar flutter of nerves that by now I know has little to do with logic or sense. _Stupid girl,_ I tell myself, not for the first time, having known for a while that I cannot keep fooling myself; when my nerves about joining the Guild settled down as I fell into the routine and everything new became familiar, the tentative knotting in my stomach whenever Brynjolf was near did not subside and I realised I was nervous around him for a different reason. _And it gets worse with every charming word or smile he directs my way,_ I think, even as I remind myself that charm is as natural to the redhead as breathing, and to trust the smiles as anything genuine would be entirely foolish. _Like trusting a thief not to steal when it's just too easy for them to do so._

I sip at the last of my wine and watch surreptitiously as the redhead talks with Delvin and Vex at the bar. Brynjolf's hand goes to the small of the blonde thief's back as he leans in to say something in her ear, and she laughs, the irritation vanishing from her silver eyes. _He always knows how to calm her down,_ I think, well aware of the rumours about the two of them.

I turn to Sapphire, suddenly irritated. 'Want help with that job tonight?' I ask.

She raises an eyebrow. 'You want to help me lift silks from a canal warehouse?'

'Sure, why not?' I say flippantly, as if the thought of lugging around goods along the canal walkways is my idea of fun. _It'll be more fun than_ _sitting here thinking about the_ _ways the redhead might enjoy calming down the_ _blonde._

Sapphire doesn't look convinced. 'We don't even get to keep the goods, you know. I have to take them to the client. No profit in it for us.'

'Well, maybe we can pinch a few extra for ourselves.' I make a smile. 'I've always dreamt of being a princess with a pretty silk dress.'

Sapphire snorts. 'I bet you wanted a tiara too, didn't you?'

'Of course I did,' I say, feeling a strange jolt in my stomach with her words, though I scarce let myself think why. 'So you want some help or not?'

'It would save me doing two trips.' She makes an apologetic smile. 'But the client's a greedy bastard trying to undercut a new rival, Wren, he's stingy and barely paying enough for my time as it is, and with the Guild's cut too...'

'Keep the pay,' I tell her. 'Consider it my good deed of the day.'

Sapphire's hazel eyes blink in surprise before she quickly makes a small grateful smile. 'Then sure, come along.'

I return the smile and down the rest of my drink. 'Let's go, then. We can get drunk when we're done.' I laugh at Sapphire's sigh of reluctance. 'Please, Saph, I don't fancy having to carry all the silks as well as you.'

'Gods, you're as bad as Delvin,' Sapphire mutters darkly, but she finishes her drink and stands up. 'Fine. Let me get the bags.'

She leads the way across the Flagon, and we're almost at the door to the Cistern when I hear someone call my name close behind and a second later I feel a light touch at my arm.

'Hey, lass, wait up a minute.'

I stop walking, my stomach fluttering nervously before I can even control it, and I turn around to see Brynjolf standing before me, the easy half-smile at his mouth as he lets go of my arm and his eyes meet mine. He looks no different than when I last saw him yesterday, or any of the other times I've run into him around the Guild in the past month, but suddenly I'm on edge as if it's the first time I'm near him, conscious of myself and my body, and him and his. _Gods, get a fucking grip,_ I tell myself, feeing vulnerable even entertaining those thoughts.

If the thief ever notices my nervousness, he never calls attention to it. 'Want a drink?' Brynjolf says. 'I've pocketed enough gold today to buy you both a bottle of wine. Maybe even Black-Briar mead if you ask me nicely.'

'I'll pass on the drink,' Sapphire says coolly, coming to stand beside me. 'But I'll take the gold, thanks.'

Brynjolf sighs. 'It's always a painful moment when a woman prefers coins to your company.' His green eyes flicker back to me. 'And you, lass? Come have a drink, eh?'

'We're actually heading out,' I say apologetically, as if I'd like nothing more than to watch him laugh with the pretty blonde thief. 'Some other time?'

'I'll hold you to that.' His eyes scan my face, and I wonder if he can read my thoughts. 'You know, Vex has a job in the works that might be perfect for you. You should talk to her about it.'

'And get her head bitten off for blinking at her wrong,' Sapphire says sarcastically.

'Play nice, Saph,' the redhead says with a laugh. 'You're meant to be pretending we're all wonderful people down here, remember? How else are we going to get Wren to stay if we ruin those illusions?'

'I never once believed that there was anyone decent down here and I've done just fine for five years,' Sapphire says.

Brynjolf laughs again. 'You wound me, lass. I thought I'd managed to convince you of my good qualities by now.' He looks back at me. 'So where are you heading?'

'To help Sapphire with a job,' I tell him.

'Down at the canals?' At my nod, a small frown sets in at Brynjolf's brow. 'It can wait, you know.'

'Delvin's already pestering me to get it done,' Sapphire says.

'I'll talk to him,' Brynjolf says, the frown still creasing his brow. 'I'd rather you didn't go wandering the canals at night. It's not safe.'

I feel a flicker of appreciation at his concern, a feeling that I quickly force myself to disregard. _I was down in the canal walkways the night we met,_ I remember. _And I only had my carving knife for protection back then._

'We'd do it in the day time, but I think someone might notice if we wander into the warehouse and try to make off with their finest silks,' I say with a smile.

Brynjolf's smile mirrors my own, the green in his eyes glittering. 'Ever heard of that strange time when it's starting to get light but there's still no one around?' he says lightly. 'They call it the dawn, lass. I'd rather you did the job then. The dark brings out more than just thieves down there and I guarantee they know those walkways better than you.'

'Well, it will be dawn by the time we get going,' Sapphire says pointedly, which makes Brynjolf laugh.

'All right, fine,' he says, grinning. 'You both know what you're doing, after all. I'm just saying. Be careful.'

'Oh, go worry about someone else, Brynjolf,' Sapphire says. 'We can take care of ourselves.'

'I don't doubt it, Saph.' He looks back at me, the light catching the green in his eyes. 'Come see me after, all right? I'll buy you that drink.'

'All right,' I say, and I feel the nerves flutter in my stomach more keenly as his smile crinkles up his eyes.

'Come on, Wren, people don't rob themselves,' Sapphire says, turning and heading towards the Cistern door.

'You know you're in trouble when you're quoting Delvin,' Brynjolf remarks. His gaze stays on me. 'Don't be out too late, lass. I can't say I'm a patient man, especially when I've been promised a drink with a beautiful woman.'

My stomach does an uncomfortable flip and I manage to give him a quick smile before I follow Sapphire, cursing myself, knowing that the concern and smiles and compliments are not specially reserved for me. _Brynjolf charms anything that moves,_ I think, well aware that half the auburn-haired thief's success comes from the skill of his silver tongue. Unbidden I feel my cheeks flush when I find myself curious about the skill of his tongue, and I hurry to follow Sapphire, my face warm and heart uneasy. _I don't want that,_ I think. _I can't._ As the weeks passed, I easily forgot how I liked the touch of the fair Nord in the Bee and Barb, the night I joined the Guild. _It's not so easy to forget the years before._ Suddenly the blush that stalked up my cheeks a moment ago disappears as I feel icy hands claw down my back and I hear cold whispers in my ear.

I find it easy to put aside my thoughts as we leave the Cistern a short while later and make our way through the city. To walk Riften at night requires more than a sharp blade. _You need a sharper mind,_ I think, as Sapphire and I navigate the dark alleys of the city in the direction of the canals. More than once we slip back into the shadows to avoid encountering the night life of the city – a group of men, a couple of whores, a hooded figure, a patrol of guards, all we pass by unseen, using the city's maze-like network of alleys and hidden pathways to our advantage, along with the darkness itself. Delvin says to be a master thief is to _be at one with the shadows_ , to know how to use them, to let them cloak us in darkness and make us easily overlooked. From the first day, I was a quick study, knowing the importance of the thief's greatest skill. _To choose when to be seen and when not to be seen is the most powerful weapon of all._

 _And knowing where to run and hide helps too,_ I think, as we take a shortcut down to the western side of the canals, avoiding the city centre. Down on the canal walkway, Sapphire leads the way past the stores to the warehouses and I follow, suddenly recalling the last time I was here. _In a b_ _lood stained dress, with a bloody knife and bloody hands._ I touch the daggers at my thighs, reminding me that tonight is different, that I am different. _The past is behind me._

A haze rises off the gently lapping waters and our boots slip a little on the wooden walkways. We come to the warehouse, fortunately not meeting a soul. _Maybe I just always get lucky down here,_ I think, as Sapphire points out the right warehouse door to me.

It's an easy job; I pick the lock in a few minutes and once inside Sapphire locates the items; twelve bolts of silks that seem to glisten like water even in the deep dark of night. We pack them carefully in the bags Sapphire brought with us.

'You would've had to do two trips to get all this yourself,' I point out quietly to the raven-haired thief as we finish packing the bags. 'Why didn't you ask one of the others for help?'

'I don't need help,' she says, her voice sharp.

I close up my full knapsack. 'I know you don't,' I murmur after a while, and I look across at her. 'Just know you can ask me next time.'

Sapphire doesn't look up. When she finally speaks, her voice is little more than a whisper. 'I know, Wren,' she says. She fastens up her bag and stands up, lifting it onto her shoulder. 'Come on.'

I go to pick up the knapsack and near enough drop it back on the ground. 'How can silks be so fucking heavy?' I mutter irritably.

Sapphire laughs quietly, the sound sweet and unfamiliar to my ears; I can count on both hands the number of times I've heard her laugh in the past month. 'You really are a delicate little bird, aren't you?' she teases. 'Hold up, then.' She swings her bag down from her shoulder and opens it up. 'Give me some of yours.'

The gesture makes my heart flutter warmly and I help her transfer some of my silks into her knapsack.

'Better?' she says, when I slip the bag onto my back.

'Much,' I say. Although the reduced weight still makes my shoulders ache a little, my appreciation at her thoughtfulness makes it easy to ignore.

Sapphire leads the way back along the canal, our pace a little slower now, and not only because of our heavy bags; the raven-haired thief eyes the stores and warehouses we pass, lingering at a few that look promising.

'Want to do a bit of shopping?' Sapphire murmurs after a while, when we are nearing the hidden stairwell out of the lower walkways.

'Have we got time?' I say, tempted by the thought of extra profit, but not so tempted by the idea of carrying more things or lingering in the canals. The night air is cool enough for goosebumps to rise on my skin even beneath my sturdy jacket.

'There's always time.' Sapphire slings her bag down to the ground and points at a nearby door into what seems to be a trader's office. 'Get me in there and I'll find us something to make this trip worthwhile.'

I comply, glad enough to drop the knapsack onto the walkway before getting to work on the lock. The door opens with a creak and I look around the walkways nervously, but I see no one nearby through the mists rising off the waters.

'Watch the stash,' Sapphire says. 'I'll be quick.'

She disappears into the building before I can say anything.

I stand beside the bags of stolen silks, my heart suddenly racing uneasily. As I listen to the water lap against the wooden walkways, a shiver passes down my back as if I am being watched.

 _There's no one here,_ I tell myself, glancing ahead down the walkway before turning to look back the way we came. Dark clouds blanket the stars and shadows hang at the edges of the walkways. Then one of the shadows off to my right seems to move.

My hands haven't even brushed against my daggers before I feel an arm grab tight around my neck from behind, choking the air from my throat while a gloved hand presses a cloth to my mouth and nose. I struggle and taste a bitter flavour on the rough fabric as I try to scream for Sapphire; the acrid perfume clogs my lungs and on inhalation sends a fierce dizziness through my head as if I've drunk enough wine to fill the canals.

 _Don't breathe it in,_ I think, but before the thought has even fully processed in my mind I feel my body stagger as all strength leaves my limbs and a moment later everything goes dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Update, not necessary to read]  
> So I completely rewrote this and a couple of upcoming chapters because I was getting bored with how things were progressing. Cut out a major OC I'd written in (I think she'll come back further down the line as a different character when we get to the Brotherhood Sanctuary) and I changed a few things around, so now I'm feeling more enthusiastic about upcoming stuff which makes it infinitely easier to write (and there'll be more pain for Wren!!!! Always good!!!)  
> Kinda related but I've been having a lot of anxiety over this whole thing, because while I'm unashamedly writing this for myself (it's totally self-insert I know), I'm also worried it's not good enough and people don't like it; I'm the worst for second-guessing myself and my work, but I'm fully determined to keep going regardless and to hold myself to a decent standard and just keep writing as per my plan (while writing as fast and concise as I can) no matter what. Doing these rewrites has helped me to refocus a lot. Because if I'm getting distracted writing it, you guys are getting bored reading it. If you're still around, I love you! I will reward you! With shackles and degrading language! ;) ;)


	5. Blade of Justice

When my eyes open, I feel a sharp ache deep in my head and my vision swims, making nausea ripple through my stomach. I close my eyes again tight until I feel it pass, and when I open them again, I find myself sitting against a wall in a darkened room.

'Sleep well?'

The woman's voice from somewhere in front of me makes my heart stop for a moment. _I know it._ I race to comprehend why the voice is so familiar to me – s _omeone from the Flagon? Someone I've robbed?_ _A guest?_ – but I cannot place it, and all I have in my mind is a keen sense of danger.

'Where am I?' I whisper, my voice hoarse. I swallow to try to soothe my throat, but the taste of the bitter poison lingers on the back of my tongue and I suddenly remember what happened. Fear races through me and I reach down in vain for my daggers, knowing the sheathes are empty before I even touch them. I look ahead towards the source of the voice, willing my eyes to adjust faster. 'Who are you? What do you want?'

'Shh. You're safe. I'm not going to hurt you, sweet thing.' I hear the smile in her words. 'What a shame you didn't say the same to Grelod, hm?'

Panic rises in my stomach and I strain my eyes to see the person speaking and if there is some way of escaping. Shapes start to form. Where I am appears to be a small windowless wooden shack, filled with piles of junk and broken furniture, some covered with old sheets. To my left I see a closed door, presumably locked. Ahead I see a low dresser, atop of which sits a woman, slender, hooded, little more than a dark shadow to my eyes, one leg crossed over the other, her foot swinging gently.

At my silence, the woman laughs quietly. 'The silent little bird sings only in the darkness of night, it seems,' she murmurs. 'But I am the night, little one. You can sing to me and only I will hear it, I swear. You needn't fear.'

'Why am I here?' I say, trying to make my voice stronger.

I hear another soft laugh. 'Call this an... intervention. Just as you intervened when you took Grelod's life and robbed me of my duty.'

'Your duty?' I repeat, my heart beating fast at the mention of the old woman again. 'What do you mean?'

Her fingers tap drum lightly against the edge of the table. 'What I mean is she was to die at the hands of one of my associates, as we had been contracted to do. Yet you got there first.'

I start to understand, but that understanding doesn't reassure me. 'Someone ordered you to kill Grelod?'

'Of course, do you think you were the first one to want her dead? You were the first to see it done, but over the years I have lost count of the poor broken creatures that have whispered in the night, stabbing at bits of flesh and reciting words, all trying to call my family forth to punish the old woman for the beatings and the cruelty and the _special guests_ she let touch them for coin.' The woman seems to enjoy the words, as she draws out her speech languidly and I hear the smile in her voice. 'And then there you were, butchering the hag in her bed without a second thought, carelessly rendering me and my family... obsolete.'

She leaves the word hanging in the air ominously, but suddenly the memories are stronger than my fear for the woman, and I feel an intense burn of anger in my stomach that she and her _family_ , whoever they are, ignored the requests of all the children before me.

'Then maybe you should've done it sooner,' I say coldly.

She laughs again. 'If I had, you wouldn't have enjoyed the pleasure of doing it yourself. And I bet it was pleasurable, wasn't it?' She puts her hand on her stomach. 'Did you feel it here? The thrill of murdering that woman who hurt you and so many others, it must have been satisfying to make ribbons of her throat.' The woman uncrosses her legs, her knees spread a little, and her hand slips down to between her legs. 'Or did you feel it here?' she says, her voice curling over her smile. 'Some of my more... expressive of familymembers take the thrill of killing to another level of pleasure.'

I feel my skin crawl with the suggestion. 'I felt nothing but relief, and fear,' I tell her, well aware that any sort of desire was the last thing I felt within Honorhall's walls. 'I was free at last, and I was afraid of being caught.'

'How... dull.' My answer seems to disappoint her. 'In any case, the fact remains that you killed a contract we had accepted. And that means you owe us a life.' Her change in tone is abrupt, the slow and soft replaced with a businesslike briskness. 'So it's up to you whose life goes to the Void; yours or another's.' She clearly sees my horrified expression, as she laughs again lightly. 'Don't worry, I'd rather not kill you. I think you might prove quite useful to me, and I'm loathe to kill such a sweet little creature who kills so passionately. So I've chosen someone for you, someone whose life I don't mind losing. Kill them, and your debt to me is paid.'

I stare at her, a chill passing through me with her words. 'And if I refuse to kill someone?'

'I will kill you,' she says simply. 'A life for a life. Sithis demands it.'

The strange word flickers something inside me, although in my fear I cannot understand why my stomach suddenly feels so hollow. 'I don't know who Sithis is,' I say, 'but I don't want to kill anyone.'

'Even if the person I want you to kill is a monster, just like Grelod?' She pauses, letting her words sink in. 'Admittedly, this one doesn't hurt little boys and girls, but they have hurt someone else very, very badly and they must be punished for their cruelty.' The woman inclines her head. 'I know you can do that. But will you?'

'I...' I falter, my own hesitation frightening me. _I'm not considering this,_ I think, even as it begins to dawn on me that I could do it. I suddenly remember how sweet it felt to watch the life leave Grelod's eyes, knowing she would not hurt anyone again. I think of the blood already on my hands. _And if I can both save myself and stop someone from hurting others, then I know my answer._ 'Yes,' I whisper finally.

'Yes,' the woman murmurs back, her voice a low thrum of satisfaction. 'Yes, you will.' She jumps up and walks towards me. 'Then I have a gift for you, sweet thing,' she says as I hear the crisp sigh of a dagger as she draws it from its sheathe.

Instinctively I withdraw, but as she holds the dagger out in her gloved hand, the handle first, I realise she does not intend to plunge it into my heart. I stand up unsteadily and reach out to take the weapon. It is lighter than my steel daggers, the handle bound in supple leather, the blade a dark metal I do not know. It is much smaller, too, and sharper; even in the darkness I can see its razor edge.

The woman returns to the dresser, and a moment later light flares in a small lantern there, illuminating the dingy small room and the woman, though I see little of her face, as she is hooded and cowled. She wears a deep scarlet cloth and leather armour that hugs her slender form, and there is a curved dagger at her hip that seems to glow a dark red. Goosebumps rising on the back of my neck, I watch silently as she goes to one of the piles of junk near to me and with a flourish pulls off the dirty linen sheet that covers it.

My heart stops when I realise it was not junk underneath the sheet at all, but a bound, gagged and blindfolded woman, with hair the colour of hay and skin like snow. She flinches at the removal of the sheet, struggling against the leather that binds her wrists behind her back, muffled sounds coming from behind the gag.

The hooded woman laughs quietly as she returns to sit on the edge of the dresser. 'I told you to be quiet and still,' she says, her tone teasing. 'Else you'll distract my guest here, and distractions lead to mistakes, and mistakes can be... messy.'

The prisoner stops struggling, although I can hear her rapid breathing behind the gag. _As fast as my own,_ I realise, feeling my heart pounding, realising what the scarlet-clad hooded woman expects me of me. _Here and now._ When handed the blade and faced with the victim, I suddenly forget my quickness to agree to the demand.

'What did she do?' I whisper.

'I told you already,' the woman replies, her tone shorter as she settles on the dresser and crosses her legs. 'She hurt someone badly and now must suffer in return. It is your responsibility to see it done.'

'I don't know what she did,' I say, wanting to back away but feeling the wooden wall behind me and knowing there is nowhere to run. 'I don't know if she deserves-'

'Wren,' she interrupts softly, my heart uneasy at the sound of my name in her voice. 'When you start thinking about who _deserves_ what, you try to turn the world into something it isn't. Did you deserve what happened to you as a child? Maybe you don't think so, but others would disagree.' She stands up once more and comes close to me, her voice in my ear sending chill through me. 'When she hurt you, when they touched you, they all thought you deserved it, or at least did not care that maybe you didn't deserve it. Don't you remember?'

I feel her hand take my shoulder and she turns me to the kneeling prisoner.

'Remember?' she says again, leaning down to my ear. 'The pain is easily forgotten, after enough time, but how could you forget how it felt to be so helpless, so powerless? How can you forget what it is like to be at another's mercy?'

I don't move, her words pulling at memories I don't want to bring to the surface again. _It's in the past,_ I tell myself, my fingers tightening around the dagger instinctively as unease sets over me. _I have a new life, I'm safe._ Then I think how easily this woman ambushed me and it hits me that there is no such thing as _safe._

'Listen to what she has to say to you,' the woman murmurs before letting go of me and swiftly removing the gag from the bound woman.

The prisoner gasps, red lips quivering. 'Please,' she says, her high voice breaking with fear. 'I don't know what you think I've done, but I didn't do anything, I didn't hurt anyone! Please, don't hurt me.'

 _Please, please don't hurt me._ Grelod had begged like this too, the moment before I brought the knife down. _So had we,_ I think, remembering a child's pleas, a little girl terrified and hurt, used, degraded, no longer innocent about how cold the world truly can be.

My memories douse me in ice and before I comprehend what I am doing I step up to the kneeling woman and bring the dagger across her throat.

The sight freezes my heart. I use the same pressure as the last time I cut someone's throat, but I forget that the dagger in my hand is not the dull carving knife that hacked apart Grelod; the razor-sharp blade cuts clean through to the bone. Blood bursts out in waves as her neck opens wide to me; the fraction of a moment seems to last for hours as I stare into her wide exposed throat, watching her life leave her, my mind racing with the thought of what words were formed there, whether the throat tasted more of wine or water, if the delicate white skin now torn had been kissed oft or not at all. Before I know it, the moment ends and the body collapses onto the ground, convulsing as the blood pumps out of the wound and spreads a pool over the floorboards. The red tide laps against my boots.

The woman clad in scarlet laughs softly. 'You are an artist, sweet thing,' she says, before she pulls something from her pocket and steps up to the corpse. A bitter scent fills my nose.

 _This is what the graveyard smells like,_ I realise with a jolt. _Nightshade._

The woman drops a single sprig on the body. 'Hail Sithis,' she murmurs.

 _Hail Sithis._ The words cut through my mind already reeling with memories I had long forced aside. _They're dead, little girl. They're better that way._

I drop the dagger to the ground with a wet clatter and I stagger backwards, my feet slipping in the blood as realisation crashes over me.

_Mother, Father, the night of the storm, the night I spent kneeling beside their cold bodies._

I clutch at the wall behind me as I gasp for breath and stare at the woman, seeing her for who she is, my heart clenching tight with the knowledge. _It was her,_ I realise, eyes racing over her slender body, hearing her voice, knowing the blonde hair that hides beneath the hood. _She was the one._

The woman turns to look at me. I see her eyes smiling, blue as a clear sky, more familiar to me than the faces of my parents. 'Why are you afraid, Wren?' she says quietly. 'There is no need to be. She was the only one in this shack that needed to die tonight.'

Her eyes hold mine and the thought suddenly hits me that if I remember her from that night, she might remember me too. _She knows enough about me and Honorhall,_ I think, _but does she know about my life before, the life she took from me?_ As I stare at her and she stares back, still smiling, I wonder how many people she has killed and whether she would even remember my parents, much less the little girl who saw her for a few seconds. My mousy brown hair was fairer as a child, my eyes and smiles less guarded, and I know I am much changed by the ten years between girl and woman. _She can't know who I am or what she did to my parents,_ I think, certain that if it were the case, she would have surely killed me right away before I could recognise her. _Before I could kill her for what she did._

'I'm not afraid,' I say, although my voice trembles. I quickly glance down at the dagger lying where I dropped it in the blood, wondering if I can grab it before she has time to react.

The woman follows the direction of my eyes but mistakes the object of my gaze. She nudges the corpse with her foot. 'She was beautiful, wasn't she? But too beautiful to live. The man who took the contract didn't want anyone else to know her touch or her gentle kiss.' She laughs a low laugh. 'Gardeners build walls to protect their most beautiful flowers from greedy, hungry eyes. This man wanted his flower plucked from the earth so no one else might witness and devour its perfection.'

I stare at her, horror filling my pounding heart. 'That's why you had me kill her?' I whisper, feeling my stomach tighten. 'Because of a jealous lover?'

'You say it like it's a poor excuse. And there are no poor excuses when Sithis has been sworn a soul. The only thing that matters is that we must deliver it.' She drops down and picks up the dagger from the red pool, letting the blood drip from the blade. 'And the fact that you killed when I told you to.' I see the smile in her eyes as she holds out the dagger to me once more. 'That's all I need. That's all Sithis needs. The Dread Lord has a plan for you, Wren, and I would make you his instrument. Take this dagger. We will call it...' Her blue eyes smile. 'The Blade of Justice. Use it in the name of the Dark Brotherhood. In my name. Kill who I tell you to kill and dispense justice as I demand it.'

I feel a shiver of fear pass down my back. I have heard enough in my time at Riften to know who the Dark Brotherhood are. _I am staring at one of the deadliest assassins in Skyrim and knowing that I must kill her._

The woman extends the blood-drenched dagger to me. I hold my breath, considering my chances of grabbing it and plunging it into her face. _She holds the dagger in her left hand,_ I realise; her right is at her side, and I wonder how quickly she can draw her own blade. The strange red glow of the dagger at her side unnerves me, and I know without a doubt that she can use the weapon better than I can. _If I am an artist, she is clearly the painter who washes the world in scarlet._

'Who are you?' I whisper, my voice faint with the realisation that she will almost certainly kill me before I can do the same to her.

'I am Astrid.' The woman smiles. 'Some little birds fly in the dark. I am the entire night sky. Now take the dagger and consider your oath with the Brotherhood to be made, in blood, as it should be.'

As my fingers touch the slippery handle of the Blade of Justice, I make an oath in my mind. _Astrid will die by this blade,_ I think as I grasp the dagger. _And it will be justice._

Astrid lets go of the Blade and steps back, smiling. 'May you kill well with it. And soon. There's a contract in Riften I've been saving for someone as... tender-hearted as you. I'm afraid this one doesn't touch children so you might have to use other inspiration for the kill. Do you think you can handle it anyway?'

The sweet tone of her voice makes my skin crawl. 'What have they done?' I ask.

She laughs as she removes the Blade of Justice's sheathe from her hip and holds it out to me. 'Now, you won't get to know the details about all the contracts. Remember, you kill when I tell you to. This much you can know: his name is Eravyn, he is a Dunmer merchant, and lives on the western side of Riften. And the contact requested that he be told something the moment before he dies. _The price has been paid._ Can you remember that?'

I nod once. _How would you even know if I said it or not?_ I think as I take the sheathe and wipe the blood off the dagger onto my thigh.

It's as if Astrid reads my mind. 'Sithis will be watching, little bird,' she says. 'He always watches.' She turns and goes back to the dresser and I wonder if I could strike now, but before I can even take a step forward she turns back to me, a coin purse in her hand. 'Your payment in advance.' She holds the purse in front of me. 'You like gold, don't you? Thieves always do.'

I hesitate before I sheathe my dagger and take the gold, the weight of coins strangely calming me. 'And then what?' I ask, putting the purse into my trouser pocket and fastening the sheathe to my thigh.

Astrid laughs softly as she returns to the dresser and sits on the edge. 'Don't worry, you will have more work.' She inclines her head. 'The blood calls to you, doesn't it? I hear the same song.'

'Coin calls to me,' I say shortly, though I know I am lying. _Your blood calls to me._ 'I'll kill for the money and that's it.'

Astrid smiles as she sits back on the dresser. 'Of course you will. I'll contact you when you complete your contract. We will meet again, Wren. If you continue to impress me.' She hooks one leg over the other once more and looks at me. 'Back to the Thieves Guild with you for now.'

I don't ask how she knows I'm with the Guild, aware that she has likely been following me for some time. _It doesn't matter, anyway,_ I think as I wait for her to unlock the door. _She has found me, and I have found her._

She laughs when she notices my hesitation. 'It's open, sweet thing. You could've tried to leave at any time.' Her blue eyes stare into mine and I hear the impatience in her voice. 'Now go. The town of Ivarstead is just to the west. You will find a carriage to take you to Riften. Your first assignment is waiting for you.'

I take one last look at the woman who will meet her end at the edge of my dagger. _My last assignment._ I push open the door out of the shack, my feet slipping in the blood, my heart cold.

 

*

 

By the time I walk through Riften's alleys in the direction of the Guild, two days have passed and my head is clear. I had barely reached Ivarstead when I turned around and returned to the isolated wooden shack in the fields, suddenly wondering why the hell I had walked away without even trying to cut the woman's throat. There was nothing to be found in the shack but the body and the blood, and my own violent fury that I had not done it while I had the chance. _There was no chance,_ I think as I near the graveyard, reminding myself of the reality: I am no fighter. I can only assume that Astrid has at least ten years of expertise in the art of killing, while my skill with a dagger comes down to four weeks of occasionally sparring with Rune. Had I made a move towards her, I've no doubt in my mind that she would've cut me down. The thought of dying before I can make her pay sends cold anger racing through me. _There must be a time in her life when she takes off that glowing dagger,_ I think. _A time when she is vulnerable. I just have to get close enough to her to find out when and where that time is._

I touch the Blade of Justice at my side and remember my oath. I don't let myself think of my parents, just as I haven't for a decade, but I do think about what Astrid took from me; a life that did not include Honorhall, a life where I was safe. _And she said a life for a life,_ I remember, my heart steeling with the thought.

The sight of the graveyard bathed in the last of the evening sunlight makes my heart warm a little. I suddenly realise how glad I am to be back here. _And a good night's sleep in my own bed wouldn't go amiss._ I brush my hand through the nightshade, knowing the familiarity of its scent at last, before I head to the tomb and open the entranceway to the Guild.

I follow the sounds of the rushing water along the Cistern passageway and retrieve my lockpicks from my pocket before I drop to my knees in front of the locked door. Before I can unlock the Cistern door, it opens from the other side, and I find myself face to face with the Guildmaster.

 _Not face to face,_ I realise, my cheeks abruptly flushing at the awkwardness of my position, on my knees before Mercer Frey with my head level with his groin. I scuttle backwards, dropping my lockpicks in my haste, and scramble back to standing.

Mercer looks down at me, a smirk forming at his mouth. He steps towards me, his dark eyes fixed on mine as suddenly he slams the door behind him, shutting us in the dimly lit passageway. 'And just where have you been, little bird?' he says softly.

'I...' Under Mercer's hard gaze I feel half my size, just as I did the first time he laid eyes on me. 'I was... on a job.'

'Were you?' His voice is sarcastic and his eyes narrow as they survey me. 'You think I don't know every job that's going on around here? Try again.'

'It was a personal matter,' I say, having no intention of confessing what happened. 'Look, it's private, I can't talk about it.'

'No, I think you can.' Mercer takes another step forward, the smile at his mouth as cold as the look in his eyes. 'Last chance, Wren. Tell me where you've been.' His voice is low and dangerous and I feel a shiver of unease move through me.

'I can't,' I say again, trying to make my voice strong as I look up at him. 'It's got nothing to-'

Before I can finish speaking, Mercer grabs the collar of my jacket and shoves me back against the wall, one arm across my neck pinning me there, his other hand against the wall above my head. 'Wrong answer, little bird,' he says as I gasp at the impact against the hard stone. 'Try the truth this time.'

I struggle against him but the strength of his arm pressing hard against my throat is unyielding and I quickly realise I'm going nowhere. 'I can't tell you,' I manage to say, his proximity setting my body on edge just as keenly as my encounter with Astrid did. 'It's got nothing to do with the Guild, I swear, but I can't tell you where I was.'

He smirks, the dim light making his dark eyes glimmer with amusement at my vulnerable position. 'I'm asking nicely right now, little bird,' he says softly. 'I wonder what would happen if I didn't ask so nicely?'

A cold shiver races down my back at his words. 'I...' I try to answer, but in my fear my words catch in my throat.

Mercer looks down at me silently for several seconds, watching me as I try not to let my uneasiness show, until suddenly he snorts with laughter. 'Relax, for fuck's sake,' he says. He releases me abruptly and takes a step back before his hand goes to his pocket.

For a moment I panic, thinking he is going to make good on his words and find some way to force the truth out of me, but all he retrieves from his pocket is a crumpled note.

' _The little bird's wings are now in shadow,_ ' Mercer reads. ' _When_ _the night sky sings, uncage her_.' He makes a sound of derision in his throat. 'What a fucking hard code to crack. I swear it's a bloody miracle the Brotherhood are still around, if this is the level they play at.'

'The Brotherhood?' I repeat nervously, staying frozen against the wall as I watch him slip the note back into his pocket. 'So... you know, then?'

'Gods, you're as stupid as they are.' Mercer exhales a laugh as he looks back at me. 'You'll fit right in, then. Astrid's claimed you for the Dark Brotherhood, fine, though gods only know why she thinks you'll be any use when you get scared by your own shadow. If she sends you a contract, you can take it, as long as it doesn't implicate the Guild or get in our way. But that doesn't mean you get to pass over your work here. You work for me. You do as I say. Understood?'

I stand stunned for a moment at the quick harshness of his words, caught off guard that he knows before I've even told him, my body still reeling from being shoved up against the wall.

He takes a step towards me, the light catching the dangerous glint in his eyes. 'I said, is that understood?'

'Yes,' I say quickly, feeling the hard wall behind me and the Guildmaster's hard gaze in front of me, feeling equally trapped by both.

'Good. So, you met Astrid.' His voice curls over her name. 'Wish I could've seen that. Does the woman still get off on murder?'

I feel my cheeks blush with the question. 'I... don't... I mean, she seemed to enjoy it when I killed someone but not like that, not in that way.' I flounder over my words, suddenly uncomfortable under the Guildmaster's gaze and the topic of conversation.

He laughs a short harsh laugh at my reaction. 'Such an awkward little bird, aren't you? Almost as awkward as you look when you wander around the Cistern in your wet little shirt.' His mouth pulls into a satisfied smirk as my cheeks flush redder at the memory. 'And I think you're lying. That's not the Astrid I remember.'

Despite my discomfort, his words spark a sudden little hope in me. 'You know her well?' I say, my heart fluttering eagerly with the idea that he might know something that would let me get close to her, some information about where she might be vulnerable, some way I can kill her.

Mercer raises an eyebrow. 'Obviously,' is all he says.

I wait for him to elaborate, but he only inclines his head and looks at me, his eyes steadily narrowing, and I realise he's not going to divulge anything to me.

'I should...' I start to say, meaning to go to the Cistern door, but he blocks my path, his hand reaching out to close tight around my elbow, pulling me close to him.

'We're not done.' His grip is like iron as he holds me in place. 'I take it she's given you a contract. Who?'

'I can't tell you,' I say.

Mercer sighs. 'That's another wrong answer, Wren, and I'm getting fucking tired of your wrong answers.'

'It's not going to get in the Guild's way, so you don't need to know,' I tell him sharply, deciding that I'm getting tired of him being in my way.

'I decide that, not you.' His brow furrows and I see the irritation in his eyes. 'I'm bored of playing with you,' he says softly, 'so just spit it out before I lose my patience.'

I feel a strange flicker of curiosity and suddenly I want to ask him just what happens when Mercer Frey loses his patience. _I might as well say I want to get my throat cut,_ I think, suspecting that the two are one and the same, and I quickly decide that if I want to live long enough to enact my vengeance on Astrid, I cannot risk antagonising the Guildmaster. _And I_ _have_ _little to fear as he already knows I'm in the Brotherhood._ If he wanted to turn me in or jeopardise my chances of getting close to Astrid, he could; I decide that giving him the contract's name will hardly endanger my position any further. _And his hold on my arm hurts, too._

'He's a dark elf,' I say shortly. 'Eravyn, a merchant who lives on the western side.'

Mercer releases my arm, a satisfied smile curling at his mouth. 'There. Isn't it easier when you co-operate? Now fuck off and get some work from Delvin, you've fallen behind and gods know you need to be of some use to me around here.' He walks around me and strides away down the passageway before I can even exhale in relief.

I still feel the ache from where his hand gripped my arm as I move back to the door and I drop down onto my knees to pick up my lockpicks. _Co-operate,_ I think angrily, realising that the Guildmaster's idea of co-operation consists of intimidation on one side and obedience on the other.

I enter the Cistern to find it completely empty, and I feel a strange pang in my stomach that no one is here to give me a warmer welcome than Mercer's. _In truth, just the sight of my bed is welcoming enough,_ I think as I hurry over and take off my jacket before carefully removing the Blade of Justice from my thigh. I tuck the dagger safely under my pillow, grab some clean clothes from the chest beneath my bed and head across to the water room, my exhaustion secondary to my need to wash the last few days away.

 _This might be the best thing about the Guild,_ I think as I stand under the force of the warm water, letting it wash away the dirt of the road. _It doesn't wash away everything, though._ I see the faint red mark on my arm from Mercer's hold, making anger burn in me once more. I close my eyes and tilt back my head under the water, but as the water trickles down my neck, I suddenly picture it as blood, a scarlet torrent that rushes from my throat, drenching me, turning the water a bright red as it splatters over my feet and down the drains. I snap open my eyes, reassuring myself as I look down at my body and the water that it's only my imagination, even as my mind gnaws at a frightening thought. _There will be a lot more blood before this is over._

I dry myself with my old clothes and pull on my clean shirt and trousers before I unlock the door and return to my bed; exhausted, I curl up beneath the sheets and, as I slowly fall asleep, I feel the shape of the dagger still beneath my pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments and kudos, lovelies. It honestly it means the world to me to know that you're enjoying this!  
> Also just a note I changed the location of the shack where you meet Astrid, I never thought it made sense that she takes you all the way to that abadoned shack near Solitude no matter where you are when she kidnaps you. Poor Wren hasn't got time to be traipsing halfway across Skyrim. She's got Guildmasters to aggressively get in her personal space ;)


	6. Fulfilled Promises

I wake to the sounds of echoing voices and rushing water, and I groan quietly into my pillow, wishing for a few more hours in bed. _But I have work to do,_ I remind myself. Beneath my heavy head, I feel the Blade of Justice under my pillow and realise I cannot waste any time. More than that, I do not want to waste any time. _The sooner I do what Astrid wants, the sooner I find her, and the sooner I kill her._

I force open my eyes and my heart jumps with surprise to find Sapphire sitting cross-legged at the end of my bed, watching me with a small frown at her dark brow.

She jumps too when she realises I'm awake and she opens her mouth to say something, before she quickly closes it again, her expression uncertain.

I smile, my heart settling and suddenly immensely glad to see her. 'You watching me sleep now?' I tease as I pull myself up to sitting. 'Don't you have anything better to do, Saph?'

The worried look in her eyes lessens and I see a small smile pull at her mouth. 'Sorry for wanting to make sure you didn't disappear into thin air again,' she says sarcastically. 'And trust me, I have far better things to do.' She jerks her head in the direction of the Flagon door. 'But Delvin's got a job for you and apparently I'm his messenger for the day.'

I sigh with the thought of having to get back to work already. _Especially when my hands must do more than thieving now._ 'I hope he's at least compensating you for your time,' I say lightly.

'If you consider an invitation to drink with him as compensation.' Sapphire's hands clasp together on her lap as her hazel eyes flicker over my face. 'You're all right, then?'

'I'm fine,' I say, not sure if I should tell her about what happened in the shack and what I intend to do, uncertain whether she would want to help me tear Astrid to pieces or if she would think me a fool for trying to avenge nothing more than a memory.

_She's no stranger to dispensing her own justice though_. I had no intentions of telling anyone in the Guild where I had come from and why, but halfway through my first week when Sapphire and I worked a job together and I overheard talk on the streets about Grelod's murder, Sapphire was near enough to see my reaction before I could hide my panic behind an impassive mask. It was only after a few more days of our working together that I realised that Sapphire wore a mask just as I did. _I read something in her, and she in me._ Soon the thief opened up to me about her past, and I mine; however, while she willingly told me how she cut the throats of the bandits who hurt her, I could not bring myself to admit what I did to Grelod, still fearing being caught for her murder and not trusting anyone with the truth, not even the raven-haired thief who quickly became the closest thing to a friend I have ever had. Instead I spun her a story about how I escaped the horrors of Honorhall a week prior to the murder and told her I was sorry I had not killed the bitch myself. Whether Sapphire believed me or not, she never said. _It's different,_ I tell myself when I feel guilty about withholding that particular truth from her. _The bandits were far away, and by all accounts living outside the law already. The woman I murdered is buried as an innocent victim in the graveyard above where I sleep._

'You just... vanished,' Sapphire says. 'I didn't know if-' I hear the uncertainty in her voice for a moment before she stops and looks down at her hands.

'I wasn't hurt,' I say quickly.

'We didn't know that.' Her tone is cooler, and when she looks back up at me, her eyes are guarded. 'We searched for you all night, not knowing whether you were in trouble. You never said you had ties to the Dark Brotherhood and they might call on you.'

I realise she thinks I went willingly, or at least went knowing who took me. For a moment, I wonder why, before it dawns on me. 'So that's what Mercer said?' I ask, not sure why he would make it sound like I had pre-existing ties to the Brotherhood when he knows I was only just recruited.

'He told us it was just a... reacquaintance with old friends, that you had been taken by the Brotherhood to make good on a contract you'd been neglecting.' She pauses, her eyes searching mine. 'Was that not the case?'

I hesitate, not knowing what to say, and it hits me that I would prefer for them all to think I'm a willing assassin rather than a little girl so easily ambushed in the dark. 'I suppose you could all it a reacquaintance,' I say slowly, not exactly lying. 'I wasn't expecting it, though. I don't really know anything about the Brotherhood beyond my contract.'

'I see.' Whether Sapphire believes me or not, I cannot tell, and I suddenly feel a pang of guilt once again for not sharing the entire truth with her. She stares down at her nails, purposefully not meeting my eyes. 'I'm sorry,' she says suddenly, softly, her voice so quiet I barely hear. 'I shouldn't have left you alone out there. I'm sorry, Wren.'

Her words touch my heart, even though I know that if Astrid wanted me taken, she would've managed it at some other time. The thought makes me uneasy and I force a bright smile on my face. 'No need to apologise,' I say lightly. 'I'm not hurt and I've got a second source of income. It all worked out fine, Saph.'

She seems startled by my casual tone. 'I suppose that's true.' She looks down at her hands again before glancing up at me. 'Just... I'll be there to watch your back next time,' she says awkwardly. 'All right, Wren?' Then she scowls. 'And you should remember to watch your own back. I had carry all those damn silks to the client by myself, thanks to you.'

I laugh. 'Sorry. I'll make it up to you. Drinks later?'

'Sure.' Her eyes smile more than her mouth, and I know the look is genuine. 'You should go see what Delvin wants.'

After she's gone, I lean back against the wall for a few moments. Now I am back at the Cistern, the scarlet-armoured woman and the prisoner whose throat I cut in the shack seem far away, like little more than a bad dream that maybe I could forget. _But I'm not a child who still believes she can forget,_ I think as I slip my hand beneath my pillow and bring out my dagger. I steel my heart, remembering my oath.

A short while later in the Flagon, Delvin gives me a sly wink but otherwise doesn't question me when I ask him for the location of a dark elf merchant named Eravyn on the western side of the city. He tells me to give him an hour and in the meantime I need to run a quick switch for him in the market, before he hands me a necklace inlaid with fake amethysts. I agree and head out, half-wishing Delvin needed longer than an hour to find the man I must kill, knowing that he will soon be real, a flesh and blood person, and no longer just a name. _And I will never think that name again,_ I decide. _Soon he will be just a body, flesh that must be torn, blood that must be spilt._

An hour later, I exchange the stolen jewelled necklace with Delvin for a small fold of paper, and I head to an antiques store on the west side of the city, my stomach twisting with nerves and my hand flitting down to my thigh more than once to check my dagger is still there. From a nearby alley, careful to avoid the attentions of any guards, I watch the dark elf through the window of his store; I take note of his short stature and simple clothing, the deeply carved lines at his forehead and beneath his eyes, the sea-like blue-grey of his skin. He smiles a lot as he helps a woman with her purchase. I draw back into the alley and wait, my stomach knotting with sudden doubt.

The afternoon is fading to dusk when he locks up his store. As he turns from the door, I notice how his bright crimson eyes catch the dying sunlight like blood. My heart uneasy, I follow him at a cautious distance as he heads towards his home. He takes several shortcuts, braving small winding alleyways that make me nervous to turn the corners. _Is he purposefully making it easy for me?_ I wonder, as the sky darkens and the shadows grow, the Dunmer's step unhurried, providing me with more than enough opportunity to slip up behind him, bury the Blade of Justice into the back of his neck and whisper the words into his ear. His clothing is made of soft cotton; he has no protection, nor seems to think he needs it. The moment is right there, but something holds me back, my feet slowing, letting the distance between us grow, until we are within sight of his modest but well-kept house and I can only watch as he opens the door and disappears inside.

I duck into a shadowy alley just around the corner from the Dunmer's house, trying not to acknowledge the strange sense of relief I feel at my missed opportunity. _I'll just break in and kill him,_ I think, but when a couple of guards pass by the alley entrance and I instinctively retreat back into the shadows, I stay there, shrouded in the darkness and out of sight of the dark elf's house. _I'll come back when he's sleeping,_ I decide, _when the night guards are drunk and busy with their own transgressions._

My heart noticeably lighter with my plan, I turn away and retrace my steps, my feet taking me back to the Guild swifter than I've ever made the journey before.

The Ragged Flagon is crowded and noisy but I find Sapphire in a far corner; one of her jobs on the side has paid off and she's almost giddy with the extra gold she's made. Her smile lightens my heart further, as does the copious drink, and soon my thoughts of the dark elf fade to little more than a vague gnawing sense of foreboding. Niruin and Rune join us a short while later. The Bosmer comments that he hopes I don't intend to use a bow for my assassinations. Rune just smiles and tells me he's glad that I'm back. I smile in return, and in the small hours when the wine makes me sleepy and unsteady on my feet, the dark blond thief helps me back to the Cistern and into my bed, tucking the sheets gently about my still-clothed body. I fall asleep before I can even thank him, my dreams coming to me fast, my mind full of images of blood red eyes and blood red hands.

 

*  


A week passes and the Blade of Justice remains unblooded. I carry out small jobs for Delvin while I follow the Dunmer around Riften day and night. One morning, I watch the dark elf help an old woman carry her purchases home; that afternoon, he gives his entire purse to a beggar. One day, he even rescues a little girl's kitten from a roof, and I wonder why the hell someone wants him dead. The only remotely indecent thing he does is to visit a brothel most nights just after dark, but when I sidle in and slip a handful of coins to the madam, I learn that he indulges in the pleasure of just one whore, a pretty female dark elf with eyes like rubies, who claims the most scandalous thing he has done is fucked her against a wall and promptly apologised for taking her too hard.

On the sixth day, I follow him down a strangely familiar street, but it's not until I'm standing in sight of Honorhall that I register where the Dunmer has led me. My heart thuds violently to be near the place again. I force myself to take a deep breath as I try to keep my thoughts under control, focusing my attention on the Dunmer as he enters the orphanage. _Is this why someone wants him dead?_ I wonder, my stomach twisting instinctively in fear, until I remember that it's the late afternoon, Grelod is dead, and there are no more guests. _He is not one of them._ The realisation that the Dunmer is likely visiting Honorhall to adopt one of the children cuts through my heart. _If I kill him, I deprive them of a good father, and then I am no better than Astrid._

I walk slowly back to the Guild, my heart like ice. I put my hand in my pocket, touching my coin purse, feeling the weight of the gold, but the action does not soothe me as it normally does. I stay afraid, and cold.

It's not long before the smell of nightshade fills my nose. Without warning my feet take me to the far side of the graveyard, where the soft mounds of earth are fresher. Though I have no desire to be here, I stop beside a patch of ground where the grass is yet to fully regrow; Grelod, rotting, her throat shredded, buried beneath a neatly cut stone. _Loving guardian, honoured citizen._ Fury burns through my stomach so violently I gasp aloud. In over a month, I never heard mention of my real name or any reports of missing orphans being wanted for questioning, but neither have I heard anyone speak of what Grelod and her guests did. The children's evident silence has protected me from being wanted for murder, but it has also protected Grelod. _She deserves to be known for who she really was._

Astrid's voice suddenly enters my mind and I whirl around, my heart racing, thinking she's behind me with her glowing dagger and a cloth of poison to make everything go dark again. _When you start thinking about who deserves what, you try to turn the world into something it isn't._

I turn back to the grave, hearing her words properly at last.

_Did my parents deserve what happened to them?_

_Did I?_

My hands brush over the tombstone, and as I look down I notice that the first tentative shoots of nightshade are starting to grow at the base.

I breathe out slowly, realising why I have delayed to wet the Blade of Justice with the Dunmer's blood; I wanted it to be justice, to be deserved. _Maybe that was a childish longing, a little girl desperately trying to find a reason, needing an answer, wanting some explanation for why bad things happen._

Suddenly I notice the sun is setting and my hands are cold on the gravestone, but with the darkening sky comes my resolution and the acceptance that completing the contract brings me closer to Astrid, and eventually, close enough to kill her. _And I want Astrid to suffer, like she wanted my parents dead, like Grelod's guests wanted to touch me_. I realise that none of them cared if someone else got hurt because of what they wanted.

_Justified or not, I can at least do it cleaner than I killed Grelod,_ I think, deciding at last that I will find a way into Dunmer's house and complete my contract there, quickly, safely, as cleanly as possible, not stabbed in the back and left to bleed out in an alley. _I know he deserves better than that, at least._

I breathe out again before I take my hands from the cool smooth gravestone borne of my first murder, resolved at last to commit another, but before I can turn around I hear a familiar voice behind me.

'Someone you knew, lass?'

I whirl around, the sight of the redhead making my heart jump in my chest. I've barely seen him all week, much less spoken to him; the extent of our interactions since I returned has gone no further than catching sight of him across the Cistern once or twice while he talked with Mercer. As I look at Brynjolf, I realise what I didn't from my quick glances at him across the Cistern; dark shadows linger beneath tired green eyes, his broad shoulders are tensed, the unshaven stubble is more unkempt than before, and though the easy smile turns the edges of his mouth upwards as he comes to stand in front of me, I get the feeling he's spent more time this week frowning than smiling, and suddenly I want nothing more than to pull him into my arms and ask if there's any way I can relieve that tension.

_Enough, stupid girl._ I shut down my thoughts and step away from Grelod's grave. 'It's nobody,' I reply.

Brynjolf's eyes flicker past me to the gravestone. An expression I cannot read flashes across his face before he quickly looks back at me and the easy smile returns. 'I never welcomed you back, did I?' he says. 'Forgive me? Maven's been on my back about finding this bastard who's messing with her and I'm just about ready to drown myself in Black-Briar mead to make it all go away.'

I've heard enough about the Black-Briar matriarch to understand how bad his week must have been, particularly if it's revolved around the subject of the mysterious saboteur who seems to be thwarting the Guild's larger plans at every turn. _Delvin called it a curse,_ I remember, but from the gossip of other guildmembers I've gathered that Maven thinks it's a business rival trying to tear her empire and its association with the Guild apart. I want to ask Brynjolf what he thinks it is, but I can tell he has no desire to speak of work, and I've no desire to bring up the subject that has clearly caused him nothing but grief this week.

'Have you tried drinking the mead instead of drowning yourself it?' I say lightly. 'Getting drunk usually helps if you're stressed.'

Brynjolf laughs. 'True enough, lass. But so does the company of a beautiful woman. And pickpocketing, incidentally.' He grins. 'Maybe you can help me out with that?'

'Unfortunately, I haven't got much of value in my pockets,' I tell him with a smile, trying not to pay attention to the pathetic fluttering of my heart with his blatant flattery.

'Hey, remember I said I'd never steal from you.' He inclines his head. 'No, I meant keep me company while I pickpocket other people. Let's go to a tavern. You're not on a job, right? So let's go get drunk somewhere warm with lots of pockets. The Flagon's too cold, and right now I don't want to be anywhere near the Guild.'

I hesitate, the thought of drinking with him alone, away from the other guildmembers and the necessity of work, appeals to me far more than it should. With my mind finally resolved, however, I'm painfully aware that if I put off my contract another night, I may never do it. _Besides, I'm meant to be pleasing Astrid, not myself._ It hits me that if I were pleasing myself, I would never be on my way to kill the dark elf, much less considering turning the redhead's offer down.

'I'm not on a job,' I say vaguely, 'but I am sort of in the middle of... something.'

My ambiguity doesn't fool the thief. 'Ah. Brotherhood business, then?' Brynjolf's smile doesn't falter but I see something flicker in his eyes, but whether it's curiosity, doubt or something else, I cannot tell. 'You know, you managed to keep that one quiet for a while, lass.'

'For a while?' I repeat, confused, before I remember I didn't refute Mercer's claim that I was with the Dark Brotherhood before my disappearance. 'Well, it wasn't really relevant to the Guild,' I say. A sudden thought comes to me. 'Do you know Astrid?' I ask him.

Brynjolf seems surprised by my abrupt question. 'Astrid? I know of her, but I don't involve myself in Brotherhood business. What do you want to know, exactly?'

I realise I'm not sure how to ask for what I really want to know. _How do you ask how to kill someone?_ 'Where does she live?' I settle for asking.

'I'd guess the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary. All the members live there, as far as I know. As to where their Sanctuary actually is, I've never known, nor wanted to know.' Brynjolf must notice my disappointment, though I do my best to hide it. 'You might try Delvin if you need to get word to Astrid. He's been known to fence for her. And to hear him say it, he and Astrid have had an... interesting relationship in the past.'

Though I feel a tentative spark of hope at the possibility of the lead, I realise it's not enough to go on. _And there I almost thought I could just sneak into her house and kill her instead of the Dunmer tonight._

'Well, thanks anyway,' I say offhandedly, as if it were only a casual question. I notice the setting sun and the gathering dusk shadows, realising I am running out of time if I want to get to the Dunmer's house before he leaves to see his ruby-eyed whore. 'I really should go,' I say lightly to Brynjolf. 'But promise me you'll stay away from the Black-Briar mead?'

I give him a smile before I start to head back the way I came.

'Wait up, Wren.' Brynjolf falls into step with me. 'Want some company?'

'I told you what I'm doing,' I remind him.

'I know. So who are we killing tonight, lass?'

His easy tone makes me stop and look at him in surprise. 'You want to come with me while I murder someone?' I say incredulously.

'Why not? It might be fun.' Brynjolf grins, his green eyes catching the last of the warm sunlight. 'And I still owe you that drink, remember, the one you promised I could buy you? Which reminds me, by the way, you don't have to invent a Dark Brotherhood kidnapping just to get out of having a drink with me.'

I can't help but laugh. 'Do women do that a lot?' I say. 'Make up excuses not to drink with you?'

'Too often, Wren,' he says. 'Yours was the most creative excuse.' He gives me his charming smile. 'And the one I most didn't want to hear. Look, I'm a man of my word and you should be a woman of yours, lass. Kidnappings and assassinations can't stop us fulfilling promises, you know, so if I've got to be an accessory to murder to get you to have a drink with me tonight, then that's what going to happen.'

I feel my heart flutter under his gaze, quickly warming to the idea of having a familiar face and the promise of a strong drink waiting for me once I leave the Dunmer's house. _And the nerves I get from being near the redhead are a welcome distraction from the gnawing panic when I think about cutting the dark elf's throat._

'All right,' I say eventually. 'As long as you know what you're getting yourself into.'

Brynjolf only smiles and gestures for me to lead the way. I comply, and the redhead follows me as I set off along my now-familiar path through the city to the dark elf's street.

When we get within sight of the Dunmer's house a short while later, night has nearly fallen and I see light flickering through the windows of his house, like many of the other houses on the street. I hesitate in the nearby alley, knowing that if I break in now, it will be a confrontation rather than an assassination, and though the dark elf is small and unarmoured, I know that desperate defence is a strong enough weapon to at least pose a challenge. _And give him enough time to raise an alarm._

After several minutes have passed and I still haven't made up my mind about what to do, the red-haired thief beside me breaks the silence. 'So are we murdering this person in an alley?' he says lightly.

'No,' I say, my voice firm. 'I need to get into his house. That one.'

Brynjolf looks through the gathering darkness at the house I point out before he turns back to me, a small smile at his mouth. 'Dare I suggest you use to talents to your advantage and just break in once he's gone to bed?'

'But he won't be going to bed for a while,' I say. 'He usually goes to a brothel after nightfall.'

'Gods, have you been hanging around a brothel, lass?' Brynjolf laughs quietly. 'You might get all those men's hopes up. Among other things.' He takes another look at the house. 'Fine, then come back later. Kill him while he's sleeping.'

'I can't, Astrid said the contact wants him to see it coming,' I say. 'I have to tell him _the price is paid._ '

'Then wake up him before telling him?' Brynjolf suggests, an amused smile at his lips. 'Look, let him have his fun with his whores and just come back later tonight. Wait for him to go to sleep, tell him whatever you have to, then cut his throat.'

'Whore,' I correct him, not sure why it matters. 'He only sees one whore.'

Brynjolf raises an eyebrow. 'Then he'll be back in his own bed even quicker. Come on, Wren. Let's just come back in a few hours.'

My resolve already wavering with the nearness of the Dunmer's house, I know I cannot wait until later. I think fast, knowing he's going to walk down the alley soon enough and I'll be forced to try to kill him here in the darkness, knowing he doesn't deserve that. _He's a good man, or at least seems to be,_ I think, remembering all the dark elf's acts of charity.

The thought comes to me and I turn to Brynjolf. 'Rob me,' I say.

The redhead raises an eyebrow. 'Come again?'

'Pretend to rob me,' I repeat. 'Steal my gold, rough me up a bit, you know?'

'Rough you up a bit?' the thief repeats, a smile pulling at his mouth as his eyes glitter. 'Whatever do you mean, lass?'

I feel my cheeks flush as I realise how it sounds. 'You know, make it seem like you're attacking me,' I say quickly. 'He's going to walk down here any minute. If he's the same man I've been watching all week, he'll see what's happening and want to help.'

Though his eyes are still laughing with my suggestion, Brynjolf seems sceptical, but before he can say a word I carry on.

'He's trusting. Charitable. He'll fall for it. You run off, leaving me on my own, and he'll offer to help me. He'll take me back to his house if I ask him. And then I can...' I trail off, not thinking that part of the plan through. _I'll figure something out,_ I think. _At least it will just be him and me, inside, and I will be an invited guest, not an intruder. People trust guests, don't they?_ I suddenly want to laugh at the thought.

A frown creases Brynjolf's brow. 'You know, I could just do this for you,' he says. 'You go back to the Guild and I'll deal with him.'

I feel my heart flutter at the offer, my words faltering for a moment. 'I can't let you have blood on your hands for me,' I say eventually.

'Lass, there's already blood on my hands, a little more won't hurt.' His green eyes hold mine unwaveringly. 'I'd rather you not put yourself in danger or try some scheme. Let me do it for you.'

As I find myself tempted by the idea of handing the responsibility over to someone else, fear starts to gnaw at my stomach, telling me that Astrid will somehow know, and that if I screw it up, I also screw up my chance of finding her and killing her. _Besides,_ I think flippantly, _won't Sithis be watching to see if I deliver his promised soul?_

'I have to do it myself,' I tell Brynjolf.

He looks at me for a moment longer before he sighs. 'All right, it's your call. But at least let me help you.'

'Then rob me,' I say firmly, before I turn and walk further down the alley. 'If I've read him right, he'll be over in an instant and I can get him to take me into his house, where there'll be no guards and it'll be quick and quiet.'

'Fine. If you think that'll work.' Brynjolf follows me as I stop halfway down the alley and I pull out my coin purse from one of my secure pockets. 'You know, Wren, I could be offended. You're saying I look the type to go around accosting beautiful women in alleys. One question, though,' he adds lightly before I can respond. 'Can you define _rough you up_? I want to know what's expected of me.'

'Just... go with your instincts,' I say vaguely. 'As long as it's convincing to him.'

'All right, then,' he murmurs. 'Be careful what you wish for.'

I try not to feel the flicker of nerves as I move my coin purse to the easily accessible pocket at my hip, so that Brynjolf can take it from me when the Dunmer comes. 'I've put my gold in this pocket,' I say, pointing out which one.

The small smile at Brynjolf's mouth as his eyes move down my body to where I point sends a keen jolt through my lower stomach. 'Don't worry, lass, I'll find it,' he says quietly.

I turn away, suddenly feeling warm under his gaze, and I busy myself with removing the Blade of Justice from my thigh and refastening the dagger to my forearm, making sure it is well hidden under my shirt sleeve.

Night has fallen heavy and still, the starlight and far-off torches of the adjacent street setting the alley in a dim half-light. We wait in silence, doubt starting to creep into my mind. _What if someone else walks past?_ I think. _Or a guard?_ Trepidation hangs deep in my stomach, the feeling not helped by the redhead's silence. _Brynjolf not having anything to say is almost more unnerving than what I'm about to do._

I haven't even heard the footsteps approaching, much less seen any sign of the Dunmer, when Brynjolf suddenly grabs my shoulders and pushes me to the wall behind me.

I stumble backwards, my breath catching in my surprise as the thief moves close to me and pins me against the wall, one of his hands at my shoulder, the other going to my jaw. His eyes meet mine with a small smile before he pulls up my chin, leans down and kisses my mouth hard.

Stunned, my heart pounding, a moment later I feel Brynjolf's mouth open against mine, easing apart my lips wide, and his tongue slips into my mouth to touch my own. The contact is enough for my body to reconnect with my mind and I gasp against his mouth as sudden warmth floods through me. I feel the thief's smile at my lips and he does it again, his tongue licking roughly against mine before pushing deeper into my mouth.

Pleasure cuts through my body and forces all other thought from my mind; before I even know what I'm doing, I reach up and bury my hands in Brynjolf's hair, dragging his head down close as I open my mouth wider beneath his, meeting his tongue's request with my own frantic demand, wanting more, wanting him, _wanting._

The thief satisfies my demand, pressing me harder to the wall while his kiss grows rougher, quickly tasting every part of my mouth his tongue can reach; I cling tight to him as an unfamiliar hunger aches keenly in my lower stomach. A quiet whimper escapes me when Brynjolf breaks apart a few moments later, leaving my mouth wet and gasping for breath, and his quick fingers unfasten my jacket with such speed I've barely taken a breath before he has the garment undone and pulled apart. I shiver as I feel the night air through my shirt, raising goosebumps on my chest and stomach, though I know it's more with the thought that the red-haired thief is one layer closer to my skin. Brynjolf grabs my waist and pulls me away from the wall enough to tear my jacket from my body. He throws the garment aside and I haven't heard it hit the ground before he leans back down and kisses me again, quick and hard, his hands closing around my wrists and pinning them to the wall either side of my head, leaving my body open for his to press against me. His tongue teases mine once more before he leaves my mouth and lays kisses along my jaw.

'Cry out, lass,' Brynjolf murmurs against my skin, his lips quickly moving down to my neck. 'Else I'm not going to stop and you'll miss your chance.'

My mind races to catch up with what he's saying, when all I want is for him not to stop. _The dark elf, the man I'm supposed to be murdering,_ I remember vaguely, but I wonder why the hell I should care.

My shallow breath hitches as the thief kisses down my neck, his stubble scratching at my hot skin. I open my eyes, not sure when I closed them, trying to bring myself back to reality, but I feel Brynjolf's tongue and teeth at the base of my neck and suddenly he bites down, sucking hard and wet at my skin, the feral action of his mouth enough to make me cry out as requested, although not with pain or fear. _Gods, how can something feel so good?_ Just then I see movement through the shadows to my right and I realise the dark elf is at the entrance to the alleyway and if I don't act now, he'll just assume we're two lovers enjoying themselves in an alley.

_Gods, but I want that, I want him to fuck me, here, now,_ I think desperately, feeling my body's warmth and suddenly conscious of the ache between my legs, longing for something I've never wanted but now I know I want more than anything. I force myself to remember that to the thief it's just a fulfilled request, just a convincing act, and as I see the dark elf turn his gaze towards us, I know I have to stop this before I throw away my opportunity in exchange for a fantasy. _It's not real. The man I have to kill is real._

'Stop!' I force myself to cry, struggling against Brynjolf's body, freeing my hands from his hold on them against the wall. 'Get off me! Someone help!'

It takes all my strength to push the thief back and get away from the wall, my legs unsteady and my heart racing as Brynjolf's eyes burn into mine, the green darkened and catching the starlight, making me ache with a need I've never had before.

'Stay away from me,' I tell him loudly as I back away, half-serious, suddenly keenly afraid of the feeling inside me as my body burns hot with desire and begs for the thief's touch.

'You're not going anywhere,' Brynjolf says, his voice hard and unlike his, and he strides after me, grabbing me and pulling me back into his arms, laying another forceful kiss on my mouth that makes me stumble backwards without even pretending. I clutch at his chest, pushing him away even as I eagerly take my last taste of his lips.

'Let go of me!' I cry out as I hear footsteps approaching down the alley behind me.

'Hey!' the Dunmer shouts, his voice echoing. 'Leave her alone.'

I see the quick flash of the thief's grin as his hand knots in my hair and he tilts my head back, his mouth crashing against mine in one last rough kiss. I gasp for breath as he releases me and pushes me back, just as I feel hands on my shoulders, gently pulling me backwards and out of the thief's range.

'You keep away from her,' the dark elf says, his hands remaining protectively on my shoulders as he draws me back before stepping in front of me.

'For now.' The redhead grins and holds up my coin purse. I almost marvel at his skill when I realise he could've drawn a knife on me at any point he had me up against the wall and I wouldn't have noticed. 'Come and get it,' Brynjolf says, his voice quiet, his eyes glittering dangerously. The dark elf lunges forward to try and catch him, but the thief is quick and easily sidesteps the Dunmer, laughing as his green eyes lock onto mine. 'Don't think I'm done with you,' he says softly, before he turns and disappears into the shadows of the alley.

The elf starts to follow, but I grab his arm. 'No, it's just some gold,' I say as I clutch at him tightly. 'Please, don't leave me on my own out here.'

The Dunmer quickly turns away from the shadows that swallowed the thief and looks at me in concern. 'It's all right, I'm not going anywhere,' he says, the innately harsh tone of his voice softened at the edges. His blood-red eyes seem black in the semi-darkness. 'Are you all right? Did he hurt you?'

'I- I don't...' I falter before I collapse to my knees on the ground, not entirely pretending, my legs still weak from the thief's kiss, my lips sore and my body wanting. 'I'm fine,' I manage to say as the elf crouches own beside me. 'Thank you. Gods, if you hadn't been here-'

'You're safe now,' he says, placing a tentative hand on my shoulder. His touch feels cold through my shirt, but I soon realise it's not that his hand is actually cold; rather, my skin is burning hot.

'My jacket...' I start feebly, looking down the alley where the thief threw it, suddenly remembering how viciously he tore it from my body, and how desperately I wish the Dunmer had never walked past.

I try to catch my breath as the dark elf finds my jacket. He brushes off the dirt from the street before handing it to me. 'Where do you live?' he asks gently as I put my jacket on. 'I'll take you home.'

'East side,' I say. He holds out his hand to help me back to my feet. 'It's such a long way. I don't know if I-' I stumble and reach out for him to keep myself upright.

'Easy, it's all right.' The dark elf slips a careful arm around my shoulders to steady me. 'You're in shock. It will pass, I promise.'

The concern in his voice makes my stomach twist with the uncomfortable knowledge of how I will repay his kindness. 'I just need to sit down,' I say.

The Dunmer doesn't even hesitate. 'I live just around the corner,' he says. 'It's cold out here. Do you want to come with me until you feel a little better?'

_Just like that._ I feel once again that quiet thrill of power, the satisfaction that for once someone is at my mercy. _Will he expose his neck for my Blade just as willingly too?_

'Yes,' I say. 'Thank you.'

The dark elf keeps his arm around me as he guides me to the house I have been watching for a week, and finally, my heart beating fast with unease and my mouth still wet from the redhead's kiss, I go inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken so long to get the next chapter out. I rewrote this and the next two chapters all over again because they just weren't working for me (again, ugh) and I didn't want to post the first until I'd finished them all. They're all super long too (this one is 6.7k ouchhh I'm sorry but it doesn't get any better, Chapter 8 is well over 7k so get comfy!). Real life struggles have also delayed this update, I've started a new job and I hate it and generally it's draining me a lot, and so when I come to write I just keep writing new fun (*cough* smut) scenes that aren't going to happen for ages yet instead of actually finishing the current build-up chapters.
> 
> I feel like I just need to apologise for this whole chapter, though. To be honest, I fucking hate it. It was such a headache to write and edit because for some reason everything feels so convoluted. It feels like a completely different tone? I don't know, maybe I've just looked at it too long, but I hope it doesn't stick out as the awkward mess it felt to write. Also I wrote that Brynjolf alley scene beforehand without thinking out why it would even happen in context *sighs* brain why do you do this to me?! I really needed some bullshit excuse why Wren wouldn't just kill the mark in his bed just so I could use the 'rough you up' dialogue :) It's pretty narrative heavy in the middle there too, which I know if it's a chore for me to write well it's certainly a chore for you to read. Because everything is so hinged on Wren's thoughts/development I feel like I can't cut out any of it without feeling like I'm just skimming, and as you can tell if you're still here 30k down the line, I can't skim anything. (What did I say about how I'd try to be concise going forward?! *failed miserably*)
> 
> Ah honestly I'm just not feeling good about any of it right now. If you're reading this, just know how much I appreciate it. Truly. Thank you. ♥
> 
> In any case, the next two chapters are ready, then we've officially wrapped up the first phase of Wren's story and *whispers* we may now proceed to Mercer smut. Finally. Chapter 9, I'm ready for you.


	7. The Price is Paid

The dark elf settles me down in a chair next to a dying fire, which he quickly stokes back to life. _He thought he would be out for a few hours with the ruby-eyed whore,_ I think, as he piles logs onto the grate. When the blaze emits a comfortable warmth to the modest living room, the Dunmer stands up and I tentatively ask for wine to calm my nerves, the request genuine. He hurries to oblige, his eyes looking over me with concern. _I don't even have to tell him what I'll do for the wine,_ I think, suddenly remembering the fair Nord in the Bee and Barb and how I convinced him to leave the room. My face flushes, the memory leaving me strangely warm, though I put it down to the crackling fire.

'Thank you,' I say to dark elf as he takes a chair on the other side of the fire, a safe and cautious distance from me. 'I should be buying you a drink for what you did,' I add as I take a deep sip of the wine, the liquid leaving a cool trail down my throat.

'There's no need for that,' he says. 'Anyone else would've done the same.'

'Not the man who was attacking me,' I say, though the words taste of a lie in my mouth as I remember how Brynjolf intervened and saved me from a similar situation the night we met.

'He's gone now,' the dark elf says firmly, his scarlet eyes seeming almost orange in the firelight as he looks at me. 'I'll give the guards his description. With any luck, they'll find him before he tries to hurt anyone else.'

_You won't tell them anything,_ I think, my desire to kill the Dunmer suddenly twice as urgent with the thought of the redhead being caught by the guards.

'I hope so,' I reply, as I wonder at the best time to strike, conscious of the unshuttered windows and how close the house is to the street, knowing that the distance between us is too great for me to now draw my dagger and for it to reach his neck. _If I don't make this quick and clean, he might have time to scream for help and enough time for someone to hear it._ I take another sip of my drink. 'I'm so sorry for interrupting your evening like this,' I say sincerely, 'if you had plans...'

'No, you aren't interrupting at all,' the elf says, even as I know some part of his mind thinks of his pretty whore.

I feel a sharp pang of guilt as I realise that I will be the last company he'll ever have; I wonder if I should've done as Brynjolf suggested and let the Dunmer have his fun before killing him in his bed.

_If I had, I wouldn't know what kissing the red-haired thief is like,_ I realise, half-wishing I was still oblivious, not sure how I will face Brynjolf again without thinking of what happened and how eagerly I lost myself in the moment, to the ignorance of all else. _He could've pulled a knife on me and I wouldn't have noticed, as long as he kept his tongue in my mouth,_ I think, my cheeks flushing with the memory. _Just like I could've pulled a knife on the fair Nord._

I suddenly realise how I can get close enough to the dark elf to bring the Blade across his throat. I push aside the nervous knotting of my stomach, having no time for hesitation. _More drink helped before,_ I think, and swallow a gulp of the wine.

I make a smile at him over the cup. 'So do you do this a lot?' I ask lightly. 'Rescue women in alleys, I mean?'

The deep lines of his face deepen with his own smile. 'Not often,' he says, although I'm certain that if I watched him long enough, I'd see him rescue more than one woman.

Movement in the street outside draws my eyes to the window and I feel a nervous jolt when I see a figure move past the house, the ostentatious jingle of armour giving away the guard. _At least they didn't walk by when we were in the alley,_ I think, but my heart starts beating faster and I know I have to act before my nerves get the better of me.

I down the rest of my wine and stand up, the bitter taste in my mouth making my head swim for a moment. I put the empty cup on the chair and turn to see the Dunmer rising to his feet.

'Let me see you home,' he says and starts towards the door, but before he has gone two steps I close the gap between us and take his arm.

'Wait,' I say, before I lean in and kiss him, light, frigid, awkward as if my lips have never kissed before, as if they do not still tingle with the taste of the auburn-haired thief.

Even the brief contact with the stranger's mouth is enough to remind me of Brynjolf's kiss and suddenly I feel warmth flood through me once more, my body wanting again, the abrupt desire startling me.

The Dunmer pulls away quickly, his hands going to my shoulders to break us apart, his crimson eyes surprised.

'I'm sorry, I just-' I stammer before he can open his mouth to question me. 'I just wanted to thank you.'

'You don't have to thank me,' he says, holding me gently back at the shoulders. 'And not like that.'

I meet his blood-red gaze, my resolve wavering, barely believing that I intend to kill what appears to be a good man. _The least I can do is make his last moments good too._

'But I want to,' I say softly, leaning in to tentatively touch my lips to his again, and this time he doesn't push me away quite so abruptly – though it's only a few seconds before he has me held at arm's length again.

'You are still in shock from what happened,' he says. 'You don't even know me. Let me just take you home-'

I stop his words with my mouth, my kiss more persistent, clutching at his shoulders to keep him close. He doesn't push me away. When I pull back a moment later I see the flicker of guarded desire in his eyes, stoked to life as fast as the fire. _I'm lucky I got to him before he went to visit his ruby-eyed woman,_ I think, knowing that if he had already had his satisfaction tonight, he would've been far less susceptible.

I run my hands down the front of my jacket, my fingers clumsy over the fastenings where the redhead's flew so nimbly. 'I know enough about you,' I say, my body suddenly tingling with the memory as I pull off my jacket and throw it on the floor. I look back at the Dunmer's eyes, wishing they were green. 'You make me feel safe. And no one has ever made me feel like that.'

I press my body close to his and kiss him again, and this time he doesn't push me away at all; his resolve weaker than mine, his lips respond to mine gently for a moment before he breaks our kiss.

'I will take you home,' he murmurs, the look in his eyes torn; the charitable and the base need, the kind man and his whore.

The wine I drank too quickly begins to make me feel a little light-headed and I can't think of anything else to say. 'Can we go upstairs?' I ask.

He hesitates, his eyes flickering over me, a small frown at his brow. 'I don't even know your name,' he says.

_Another name,_ I think, wondering how many identities I will wear and drown in blood. 'Lynna,' I say, deciding it fits, knowing the girl is a whore now, that she does what she must.

I don't ask the dark elf for his name in return, already knowing it and not wanting to know it; I bring our mouths together again and I feel his arms tighten around my willing body as I lean into him. _Just a willing body, and a sharp dagger._

Upstairs, the room is dark, the window shuttered, the bed made neatly. The Dunmer lights a single candle, the shadows jumping off the wooden walls uneasily, mimicking the beating of my heart; the sight of his bed sends a nervous chill down my back as my mind races with what might happen, what he thinks will happen, what he wants to happen, even as I remind myself that nothing is actually going to happen. _Just get him lying down_ _under me_ _, like I did with Grelod._

But the thought of Grelod makes me think of Honorhall, of the beds there, of one bed in one room and one girl who did not want to be there. I feel the cold fear claw at my back and I close my eyes, desperately trying to think of something to stop my mind going where I know it cannot, knowing that there is nothing but pain for me there.

_I was willing with Brynjolf,_ I realise, aware that the feeling he caused me was the opposite of pain. _I wanted to be touched._

When hands gently grasp my waist from behind and I feel a warm body behind mine, I suddenly imagine that it is the thief, and the chill down my spine turns to a shiver of pleasure.

My head a little dizzy from the wine, I turn around to meet his mouth, his kiss still light and uncertain; I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him fast and hard as the thief kissed me, fooling my body that it is him. My body is only too eager to believe, half-drunk and still warm from the fire. I eagerly open my mouth under his, finding his tongue; he tastes of some herb I don't know and somewhere in my mind I hope that the dark elf's last meal was a good one. I close my eyes and kiss him harder, imagining the hair is red and the eyes are green, and when the half-smiling mouth opens to taste my tongue again I reciprocate with such fervency the Dunmer stumbles back onto the bed. I push him down flat and climb on top of him, straddling his hips, my breath catching with my sudden desire as I am aware of his hardness pressing between my legs.

I lean down over him and kiss him, my tongue keen in his mouth. His own tongue is gentler, his hands on my hips tentative, but the contact is enough to make my body recall Brynjolf's touch, Brynjolf's tongue, Brynjolf's body against mine; I break apart with a gasp and he kisses down my throat, his lips running over the sensitive area of my neck where the thief bit and sucked at my skin. The memory makes me moan quietly with longing and I close my eyes as my needing mouth finds his again, forcing his tongue to react to mine.

'I want you,' I whisper against his lips, finally telling him, finally admitting it to myself. 'I want you so bad it scares me.'

I feel gentle hands cup my face and I open my eyes, wanting to see him, wanting to see his eyes and his smile.

'Don't be scared, Lynna,' the Dunmer beneath me says, ruining the illusion.

'Shh.' I kiss him quiet, knowing I can't imagine the harsh voice as the thief's easy lilt. 'Just touch me,' I say, grabbing his hands and putting them on my chest as I sit up on him, sit back on him, daring to rock my hips against him. The resulting feeling makes me gasp quietly as I work myself against the hardness of his cock, the unfamiliar ache of desire between my legs heightening abruptly at the contact even through our clothes.

My breathing growing fast, he sits up beneath me and I feel cautious fingers start to loosen the ties of my shirt. I help, pulling at the material viciously until the shirt is open to my ribs, suddenly not only wanting but needing to be touched. I'm about to tear the garment off altogether when I feel the rub of the Blade of Justice against my forearm. _Not yet,_ I think somewhere in my mind as instead I slip my hands under my shirt and unfasten my binding beneath the material, letting it fall apart; I feel a shiver at being exposed and at my own inclination, but when gentle hands move up to caress my breasts, my breath catches with their touch, imagining the fingers are slender and precise, skilled at dipping into pockets. I go to kiss him again, wanting his tongue in my mouth again, but his lips move down my neck instead, kissing down my throat, down my chest, until his mouth latches on to one breast, teasing my nipple with his tongue.

'Gods, yes,' I whimper, tilting my head back, my breathing shortening with the keen pleasure coursing through me. I bury my hands in his hair as a few moments later his mouth moves up over my breast and back to my neck, kissing softly at the sensitive skin that still aches with the thief's tongue and teeth. The memory makes me shiver with pleasure. 'Bite me,' I beg desperately.

He complies; his teeth press lightly against my skin, and it's nothing like the way the thief feasted at my neck earlier, but his efforts coupled with my memory are enough to make a hitched moan rise in my throat and for my hips to suddenly rock involuntarily over his hardness once more. My fingers knot in his short hair and I hold his head against my neck, wanting it to last, wanting more.

'Lynna,' I hear a voice murmur in my ear. _The Dunmer,_ I realise with a jolt, my racing heart skipping a beat when reality forces its way back into my mind.

I open my eyes. _Remember who this is, and who this isn't._ In the dancing candlelight, I see the sea-blue colour of his skin, the darkness of his short hair, and when he pulls back to look at me too, I see the red of his eyes, and a sudden cold stillness comes over me as I realise I cannot pretend any longer.

'Lie back,' I murmur, before I kiss the dark elf one last time, deeply, my mouth wet.

I push him flat on the bed again and sit back on his hips, feeling his desire hard beneath me, vaguely aware of my body's inclination to delay, to take its pleasure, a pleasure it begs me to indulge. _But t_ _his is an illusion._ _I don't want him. I know who I want. And I know who I must kill._

I pull back my sleeve and draw the dagger from its sheathe.

'The price is paid,' I whisper, looking down at Eravyn.

Recognition dawns in his crimson eyes before I drive the Blade of Justice deep into his throat.

He chokes out blood in great splutters, the wound gushing warm over my hands as I feel the dagger touch bone. I pull the Blade back quickly, horrified, and I close my eyes tight, not wanting to see it, not wanting to hear it, pretending I'm elsewhere, not astride a corpse of my making with my breasts exposed and hot blood on my hands. Between my legs I feel his still hard cock and before I can stop myself I rock my hips slowly, wanting to feel that desire once more, waning to believe the illusion again, until the wetness of the blood drenching my hands becomes too difficult to ignore and the reality of the situation hits me.

_Imagine if someone found me, a woman riding a corpse to get herself off,_ I think, realising how utterly ridiculous I must look. _And I_ _have to look._ I force myself to open my eyes and turn my gaze down, my heart clenching painfully when I see what I have done, wanting to retch at the blood and mess of his throat.

I sit atop the body for a while, my breathing slowing as the scarlet flood pours out of him. _He was alive and kissing me a few moments ago,_ I think. _Now he is flesh and blood and nothing more._

'Hail Sithis,' I whisper, feeling hollow and strangely calm at once. _Astrid's time will come,_ I promise the Dread Lord in my head, too afraid to whisper it aloud. _Tell her if you want, Sithis. But I have made a contract. Here is my Sacrament. Astrid will die_ _by my hand_ _._

I climb off the Dunmer's body, my head spinning when I stand up from the bed, unsure if it's the wine or something else. My breathing still shallow, I wipe my hands off on the bed sheets and clean the Blade of Justice before slipping it back into its sheathe and reattaching it to my thigh. I refasten my binding, my breasts still feeling the ghost of hands and a tongue, my skin still hot and sensitive. I quickly lace up my shirt, trying not to think about what happened or breathe in the scent of blood. _I've done what was required. I just have to get out._

I blow out the candle, leaving the blood-soaked bed and the corpse to the mercy of the shadows. I go to the shuttered window and peer through the cracks, but I have to ditch my idea of jumping down when I realise the window is too high and directly faces the street. I go back downstairs, praying for a back entrance or window, suddenly concerned that I will have to leave the house through the front door and end up running straight into a guard, not knowing how I would explain the flecks of blood drying on my skin and the sopping wet red sleeves of my shirt.

My feet barely touch the final step of the stairs when I realise I'm not alone.

'Have fun?'

Brynjolf's voice makes me jump, and for a moment I'm convinced I failed to kill the Dunmer and I'm still trying to imagine his voice as the thief's. When I see him standing by the fire, I don't get the normal flutter of nerves; I feel desire cut through me like a hot knife, my body still half-believing it was him touching me in place of the dark elf.

There is the easy half-smile on his handsome face, and yet his jaw is set hard and his eyes scan my face with an expression I cannot read; in the warm flickering firelight I can't decide if it's laughter, anger or something else that burns in his eyes.

I feel the heat of my face, still flushed from upstairs, heightening with the blaze still bright in the fireplace.

'What are you doing in here?' I ask, trying to sound normal and not like I was crying out in pleasure at imagining his hands on me and his cock between my legs.

'It doesn't take that long to kill someone, lass.' Brynjolf walks over to me and holds out my coin purse, the smile still on his face. 'I got concerned.'

I take the purse, conscious that the ache between my legs seems to return fervently with the sound of his voice. 'Well, there's no need to be concerned,' I say. 'I'm done here now.'

He inclines his head as he looks at me, the smile not wavering. 'I guess you are.'

The awkward silence hangs in the air while I try and fail desperately to think of some way to fill it, the task seeming impossible when the sight of him pushes all power of speech from my body and replaces it with the memory of how it felt to kiss him, to have his hands on me, to feel him underneath me. _That wasn't him,_ I remind myself. _And the kiss_ _in the alley_ _was a convincing act_ _I asked for_ _, nothing more._

'We should probably go,' Brynjolf suggests lightly. 'It's generally a bad idea to hang around a murder scene. Don't forget your jacket, Wren.' He disappears through to the back room of the house and I follow, picking my jacket up off the floor and slipping my arms through the sleeves, feeling cold and hot at once.

The dead elf's house backs onto a narrow alley via an unlocked door, though I suspect the door was locked before Brynjolf's arrival. Once outside, I open my mouth and breathe deep the cool night air; though it freshens my tongue from the taste of the elf and the scent of blood, my head stays scattered and dizzy from the combination of murder and more kisses in half an hour than I've had in a lifetime. Without a word Brynjolf sets off and I can only follow silently, not trusting myself to try to talk to him. The alley snakes through the residential area and I quickly lose my sense of direction, simply letting the thief lead the way.

We walk back to the Guild and through the graveyard, and at the bottom of the tomb, the thief doesn't help me off the end of the ladder, for which I'm grateful, conscious that the mere thought of having his hands on me again makes my heart beat twice as fast.

We're almost at the Cistern door when Brynjolf stops and catches my arm. 'Wait a second.' He turns me to face him before letting go of my arm. 'I need to say something.'

I look at him, my stomach knotting nervously. 'What is it?' I ask, trying to not to sound wary, conscious that the thief is no longer smiling and the expression in his eyes is hard.

'You didn't have to fuck him, you know,' Brynjolf says shortly. 'I told you I would kill him for you to save yourself the trouble. You only had to ask.'

I blink, taken aback. 'I didn't fuck him,' I say, my cheeks feeling warm.

Brynjolf's face is like stone. 'No? What the hell did I hear then?'

I flush a brighter red with embarrassment, not sure which is worse: Brynjolf thinking I actually fucked the Dunmer or the thought of telling the redhead that I was imagining it was him underneath me.

'I didn't fuck him,' I say again firmly. 'I just... distracted him, to get him lying down, so I could-'

'You don't have to explain it to me,' Brynjolf interrupts. 'I really don't want to know, Wren. I'm just saying, you didn't have to, all right?'

He turns to the door, his hands going to his pocket for his lockpicks.

'But I didn't,' I say again, anger striking through me with his refusal to believe me. I grab his arm and pull him back to face me. 'Why do you suddenly care, anyway? You didn't seem to mind when I stole those papers for you, the night we met. You were more than happy for me to go upstairs with that man, knowing full well what he wanted with me.'

'I minded,' Brynjolf snaps, looking down at me with his eyes like fire. 'Even then, I'd known you half an hour and the thought of that bastard groping at you made me want to cut his fucking throat apart.'

The violence of his words stuns me and I stand wordless for a moment, not sure what to think.

'Well, I cut this one's throat for you,' I point out eventually, trying to make my voice light, but for once Brynjolf doesn't seem to want to joke.

'Gods, Wren, you don't get what I'm trying to-' Brynjolf stops himself, his jaw set. When he speaks again, his voice is lower and harder, almost like how he had sounded in the alley. 'Just don't fucking make me listen to you with another man again.'

I stare at him, scared to believe what I think he is saying. 'Brynjolf,' I start, not sure what to say, just knowing I want to say something, but he doesn't give me a chance to find the words.

'We can talk later,' he says, his tone cold. He pulls his arm out of my hold, although I didn't even realise my hand was still there. 'I need a fucking drink. And you need to wash that blood off you.'

It's a testament to his skills – or he just isn't as angry as he seems – that he unlocks the door as effortlessly as normal. I follow him in silence into the Cistern but when he strides off in the direction of the Ragged Flagon I stop and stand by the pool's edge, watching him go, no idea what I'm supposed to think.

Fortunately, I don't have time to think at all, as the raven-haired thief appears beside me, with Niruin close at her heels.

'What's his problem?' Sapphire asks, her hazel eyes following after Brynjolf as he slams the Flagon door behind him, the echo lost beneath the Cistern water.

'And just what have you been doing, little bird?' the Bosmer cuts in before I can even begin to come up with an answer as to what's wrong with Brynjolf.

I turn to look at Niruin, following the direction of his gaze. 'Work,' I say shortly, folding my arms and hiding my bloody hands, not wanting to talk about it, not wanting to think about it.

The elf grins knowingly and opens his mouth but Sapphire gets there first. 'Want a drink, then?' she asks me swiftly. Her eyes flicker down to my stained sleeves. 'When you're ready. We'll wait for you in the Flagon.'

'I'm actually a bit tired,' I say truthfully. _And I'm not about to follow the redhead into the tavern when he clearly has no desire to talk to me._ I force a smile on my face as my stomach twists with uncertainty over what just happened. 'Tomorrow, all right?'

'All right.' Sapphire surveys me for a moment, a flicker of concern in her eyes. 'Sleep well, then.'

I manage to keep my smile on my face until she and Niruin turn away and I watch the two of them head into the Flagon, knowing I won't sleep well, or at all, my mind reeling as my senses still try to process everything of the night; how it felt to hold a blade as it cut through to the bone, the smell of the torrents of blood and the raw insides of exposed flesh, the taste of Brynjolf's tongue keen in my mouth and the warmth of my needing body, the sight of the dark elf's crimson eyes as he understood the words I whispered. _The sight of his crimson eyes when the realisation came too late._

Abruptly I drop to my knees beside the pool, submerging my hands in the water, watching the dried flakes of blood come away from my skin. _When this blood is gone, I will not think of it again,_ I tell myself, knowing it is too late to regret what I did. I listen to the rushing water, letting it soothe me, letting it wash away tonight from my mind. _Everything from tonight._ My questions over the auburn-haired thief I also try to put aside, knowing that some foolish part of me had begun to believe all his charming words and flattery were sincere. _He talks like that to everyone,_ I remind myself, thinking of his easy smiles and flirtations with the other female guildmembers. _But does he kiss them like that too?_ I stop that thought, knowing what happened in the alley was him just fulfilling my request and making it convincing and I shouldn't take it as anything more. _Was that all it was, though?_ The thoughts swirl in my head, leaving me with nothing but confusion and a vague sense of fear.

_The Dunmer's desire got him killed._ My heart tightens in my chest when I suddenly wonder what my desire will do to me.

I stay on my knees by the pool's edge for longer than I realise, until the sound of laughter as a couple of guildmembers enter the Cistern jerks me back into reality, and I look down at my hands, having forgotten that they are still submerged in the water. My skin is wrinkled, the flesh softened and plump, and clean.

_Entirely clean, as if they have never been drenched in blood._

My hands cold from the water, I stand up and dry them on my jacket before I head across the Cistern to my bed, realising that once I have washed the sleeves of my shirt, it will be as if tonight never happened.


	8. Convinced

With the Blade of Justice in one hand and a blunt training dagger in the other, I spar with Rune in the training room for most of the morning, deciding that I should probably be ready for when Astrid makes contact now that I have completed the task she requested. _And I really need the practice,_ I think as I'm forced to yield once more to Rune's assault. While I am certain the Blade has tasted more blood than Rune's pair of steel daggers, he's still far better than me, never missing a beat - although with my smaller size and the advantage of speed, I have him at bladepoint more than once. _Though at least one of those times he lets me win._ I appreciate the gesture nonetheless.

I'm about to sidestep Rune's cut when I hear the door to the training room open and I turn around to see Brynjolf standing in the doorway, my body freezing at the sight of him. He seems in a better mood than last night, an easy smile on his face as he meets my eyes, but it doesn't make me feel any less nervous, my hands suddenly feeling spare and awkward.

'And you're dead,' Rune says, as I feel the flat of his dagger lightly touch my throat.

'I was distracted,' I say, turning back to him, the blade against my neck the least of my concerns, my mind racing with the thought of what Brynjolf might want, following how things were left the previous night.

'And now you're dead.' Rune lowers his daggers and his blue eyes flicker over to the redhead.

'Don't mind me, lad,' Brynjolf says as he leans against the wall near the door. 'You two carry on. Though Wren's right. Women can't help but be distracted when I'm around. It's a blessing and a curse for me, but it also gave you an unfair advantage.'

'Did you want something?' I say, my voice more abrupt than I intend, my nerves putting me on edge.

The redhead doesn't seem to mind my tone. His quick laugh echoes in the room. 'Yes, I need a word with you, Wren. But only if you put the daggers away.' His green eyes move over to Rune. 'Give us a minute, eh?'

His words are conspicuously an order and not a question, but I know Rune wouldn't have argued anyway. The dark blond thief sheathes his daggers. 'Of course,' he says. He looks at me seriously. 'You would've won that last one. You're really improving, you know.'

'You've taught me well,' I point out with a smile, which makes his eyes brighten as he smiles back before taking his leave.

A moment later, the door closes behind Rune and I turn away from Brynjolf, retreating to the straw bales and putting the training dagger down, my heart uneasy to be alone with the redhead again, every part of me recalling what happened last night, even though I tried my hardest to wipe my memory clean.

'So you're still practising your daggerwork with Rune?' Brynjolf scoffs. 'The lad can hardly manage two lockpicks.'

'He's been really helpful, actually,' I say defensively, on Rune's behalf and my own, knowing my skill with a blade is largely because of his efforts.

'Helpful?' I hear the smile in Brynjolf's voice. 'You know he wants to do more than teach you how to use a dagger, right? The poor bastard never takes his eyes off you.'

I feel my cheeks flush as I sheathe the Blade of Justice at my thigh. 'He hasn't tried anything with me,' I say, hesitant to turn back around to face him.

'Of course he hasn't, because he's the closest thing to a gentleman you'll find down here,' Brynjolf says. 'I expect he'll keep quiet about how bad he wants you until the day you make the first move.'

'Well, I'm not going to,' I say abruptly, feeling my face warm with the topic of discussion as finally I turn to look at him. He still leans against the wall near to the door, his arms folded and his green eyes trained on me.

'No?' Brynjolf inclines his head. 'You could do a lot worse, especially here.'

'You don't think very highly of your fellow guildmembers, do you?' I say.

'I'm not talking about my fellow guildmembers. You should've asked me.' He grins easily as my heart skips a beat. 'To practise your daggers with, I mean. I'm a far better teacher than Rune.'

I raise an eyebrow, unsurprised by his self-confidence. 'Really.'

Brynjolf laughs and pushes away from the wall, taking a step further into the room. 'Yes, really. Come on. Show me your stance.'

I hesitate before I pick up the training dagger and draw the Blade once more, turning my body slightly to the side and holding the daggers angled as Rune showed me. 'Good enough?'

Brynjolf's eyes flicker over my body appraisingly. 'Not bad, lass. But you've got one thing wrong.'

I frown, even as I feel goosebumps rise on my skin under his gaze. 'What's that?'

The familiar half-smile pulls at his mouth and he looks me up and down again, the feeling of his green eyes moving purposefully over my body making my breath catch in my throat for a moment. 'You're going to try to kill me from all the way over there, are you?'

I feel my heart beating fast in my chest. 'I was taught you should let the enemy come to you,' I say lightly.

Brynjolf laughs a short laugh. 'You're right about that,' he says. He pauses. 'Do I have to be your enemy, though?'

I lower my daggers, my body suddenly on edge. 'What do you mean?'

'I mean forgive me for being such a prick last night after our little murder adventure,' he says easily. 'I've no right to tell you what you can and can't do. It won't happen again.'

'Oh.' I try not to feel the sudden sense of disappointment that cuts through me, though I can barely understand the feeling to begin with. 'All right.'

'All right?' His smile remains at his mouth, but Brynjolf's eyes hold mine unwaveringly with some expression I cannot comprehend. 'Does that mean I'm forgiven?'

'Of course,' I say, making my voice firmer. 'There's nothing to forgive.'

Brynjolf raises an eyebrow. 'Is that so?' He pauses for a moment again, his eyes still searching mine. 'Then you don't mind me being jealous when I hear you moaning as another man touches you?'

The nerves in my stomach flutter violently with his words. 'You were jealous?' I manage to say eventually, my tone even, as if my heart isn't pounding hard enough for him to hear. 'Why would you be jealous?'

'For several reasons,' Brynjolf says. He inclines his head, the smile still at his mouth as he looks across the room at me. 'Partly because I think I could make you moan louder if I touched you, Wren.'

My breath catches and I suddenly feel conscious of my body, my hands, my mouth, every part of me recalling what happened in the alley and in the Dunmer's bed when I was imagining the man beneath me was the auburn-haired thief.

'I...' I start, not even sure what I'm going to say, but in the end I don't have to find the words as the door opens and Sapphire walks inside, closely followed by Niruin, bows in their hands, evidently ready to train.

'If I didn't like _goddess_ why the hell do you think I want to be called _princess_?' Sapphire is saying, her voice exasperated. She stops short just inside the doorway when she catches sight of me and Brynjolf.

'Tell me what works for you, then,' Niruin says. 'I live to please you, Sapphire.'

'You not speaking at all would please me,' the raven-haired thief says shortly. She looks between me and the redhead. 'Am I interrupting?'

Brynjolf laughs easily. 'Yes, you are, but I'll let you off. Princess.' He grins as she scowls. He turns back to me and I feel my heart flutter as his green eyes meet mine. 'I clearly wasn't convincing enough, was I?' he says. 'I'll try harder next time, lass. You can hold me to that.'

I can only stand stunned as with one last grin Brynjolf turns away and leaves the room.

'Convincing?' Sapphire repeats, curiosity in her hazel eyes. 'What's he talking about?'

'He's just trying to convince me that he'd be better than Rune at teaching me daggerwork,' I lie, not wanting to tell her the truth just yet, much less with Niruin at her side. _Especially since I have no idea what the truth actually is_.

'Well, he's probably right,' the Bosmer says. 'But it's not all about the teacher. I mean, I'm the best archer this side of Tamriel and even I couldn't teach you the bow, little bird.'

I sigh and say nothing. Fortunately, the elf is more interested in impressing Sapphire than talking with me, and his attentions quickly return to the raven-haired thief, whom he asks for a kiss if he hits the target fifty times. She offers him a kiss from her blade in return.

I hop up onto the straw bales to watch their training, trying not to think about what Brynjolf said, trying not to feel the cautious warm fluttering in my stomach as it fights with my sudden uncertainty. _I can't tell if_ _the thief's words are charm or serious,_ I think, finding myself unable to trust my own judgment on the matter, knowing my desire for the auburn-haired thief clouds my mind, making me susceptible to believe an illusion, just as I did the night before.

The day passes quickly and when Sapphire leaves the Cistern on a job in the early evening, I go to the Flagon and find Rune, who he is more than content to spend the rest of the night drinking with me. I feel a flicker of awkwardness to be alone with him, remembering Brynjolf's words, but I quickly push it aside and remind myself that nothing has changed between us as far as I am concerned. _What does Brynjolf know about what Rune wants, anyway?_ I think, when the redhead has hardly been forthcoming about what he himself wants. _To make me moan louder than I did last night?_ I force myself to put the thought to the back of my mind.

The Flagon grows crowded and the small hours of the morning are crawling by when I hear raised voices at the bar, Delvin's among them. Thinking it's merely the beginnings of another fight over a hand of cards or Delvin's flattery has got him into trouble again, I don't pay it much mind. Rune heads to the bar a short while later to get a final round of drinks, but when he returns, he wears a worried expression on his handsome face.

'Sapphire got caught on her job,' the dark blond thief tells me, as he places the drinks on the table. 'They took her to jail.'

I don't hear it at first, the words taking a moment to sink in. When my mind finally processes what Rune said, I feel my chest tighten abruptly. 'What happened?' I demand. 'Where is she? Is she all right?'

'She's fine,' Rune says quickly, seeing my panic. 'Brynjolf went to get her out. They're saying she's safe.'

I stand up, my stomach clawing with worry, my head spinning a little from the wine. 'Where?' I say.

'No one said. Wren-'

I don't give him a chance to finish, as I turn and cut through the crowd, heading back to the Cistern. _Is this how she felt when I vanished?_ I think, feeling my heart race at the thought of Sapphire being caught, being taken against her will, being hurt. I walk faster, taking deep breaths to try and clear my head from the wine, my sudden fear sobering me up fast.

In the Cistern, I catch sight of Mercer heading in the direction of his room off one of the alcoves. _I've never been so glad to see the Guildmaster,_ I think as I near enough run to catch up with him.

'Mercer,' I call out, and he stops to turn and watch me as I come to stand in front of him. 'Where's Sapphire?' I ask quickly.

'Sapphire?' Mercer scoffs. 'Why the fuck should I care? The stupid slut couldn't do a simple job without getting herself caught by a couple of guards.'

'I don't give a fuck, just tell me where she is,' I say sharply, my fear for Sapphire greater than my fear of the Guildmaster. 'I need to make sure she's all right.'

Mercer doesn't seem to mind my tone; he just laughs a short harsh laugh, a smirk forming at his mouth, although I don't see how I've said anything funny. 'Don't worry, little bird,' he says. 'Brynjolf is taking care of her. He's taken her somewhere safe and away from the Guild.'

'Where?' I demand, my frustration starting to rise, knowing he will withhold the information for as long as possible.

Mercer surprises me by telling me immediately. 'The Overlook,' he says. 'You know it?'

I don't bother giving him an answer before I turn away, knowing the tavern he means; the place is on the lakeside edge of Riften and is well acquainted with the Guild, although more for our extortion of the tavern's debts than for honest patronage.

'I don't think you'll like what you find there, though,' Mercer adds offhandedly before I've even taken two steps.

I turn around. 'What do you mean?'

Mercer inclines his head. 'Well, you're chasing after Brynjolf, aren't you?' His smile is sarcastic and almost pitying. 'The way you look at him with those big eyes and blush like a girl every time he talks to you. You want him, right?'

My face flushes before I can control it and I glare at the Guildmaster, having no desire to talk to him about my feelings for the auburn-haired thief when I can barely acknowledge them myself.

'Don't look at me like that,' Mercer says with another laugh. 'I'm just giving you fair warning, little bird. If you're looking to ride his cock tonight, you might have to get in line.' His smirk twists my stomach. 'He's occupied with Sapphire right now.'

His words make my cheeks flush redder. I stare at him, not wanting to hear what he means. 'He's helping her get out of jail,' I say slowly.

'And then he helped her get out of her clothes,' Mercer says. His amusement is obvious. 'They've been screwing for years. You weren't aware?'

'I...' My words falter. 'They're friends.'

'Friends?' he repeats, his voice mocking. 'Like you're friends with Sapphire? Do you fuck her from time to time as well?' Mercer's dark gaze flickers down over my body, a smile curling his mouth. 'I'd like to see that.'

I don't register his words, for once not feeling his gaze on my body. 'But he...' I stop myself, not wanting to admit to the Guildmaster how utterly stupid I suddenly feel. 'I have to go,' I say instead.

'To the Overlook?' The suggestion makes Mercer snort with laughter. 'Yeah, why not go see for yourself. Just don't say I didn't warn you. Although if you have any sort of sense in that little head of yours, you'd have realised by now that that stupid bastard can't resist playing the hero in exchange for a pretty cunt. Why do you think you're even here, Wren?'

I turn away quickly, not wanting to hear any more, but his words echo in my head louder than the rushing water as I walk through the Cistern and make my way out to the graveyard. _I already know the Guildmaster enjoys making me feel uncomfortable at every opportunity,_ I remind myself, not putting it past Mercer to say what he did just to hurt me. _But why would he lie?_ The question nags at the edge of my mind, knowing he would have nothing to gain from making it up. _And it's not like Brynjolf or Sapphire aren't free to do whatever they want with each other, anyway._ As I leave the Guild and set off in the direction of the Overlook, my stomach feels knotted tight and a sense of foreboding crawls down my back, like I know somehow that Mercer is right and I am not going to like what I find.

Even with the shortcuts and secret paths I have discovered from my time with the Guild, it takes over an hour to get to the far side of the city. It's closer to dawn than dusk by the time I reach the Overlook; from the tavern's vantage point, I can see the lake beyond the city wall, the cold starlight glinting off the dark water, making the lake seem like a mass of rippling black scales. I look out at it for a while, wanting the water to comfort me but the dark restless expanse only makes me uneasy, and I try to steady my breathing before I head inside.

Far removed from the bustle of the heart of the city, the place is quiet, the early hours of the morning thinning the patrons down to not much more than a few committed drunks. I head over to the young Breton woman behind the bar, remembering how Brynjolf once sent me here to claim a debt for him; he had laughed when I told him how the barmaid called him a gold-hungry bastard with a forked silver tongue.

She looks up at me as I reach the bar, her expression soon darkening with recognition.

'Seen Brynjolf?' I ask casually.

She turns her gaze back to the glass she is polishing. 'Yeah, I've seen him.'

I wait, but she keeps polishing glasses and doesn't seem inclined to give me any more of an answer. 'Is he here?' I say.

She shrugs.

A moment later, I drop a few coins on the bar. 'Is he here?' I repeat, sharper.

The Breton puts down the glass before she slides the gold swiftly off the bar and into her hand. 'Last on the left.'

The knot in my stomach tightens. 'Thanks,' I manage to say.

At the top of the stairs, I hesitate, wondering if I should turn around and leave. _Sapphire is safe, I know that much. Do I really need to know any more?_

A second later, my feet take me quietly down the hallway, treading light on the floorboards. Near to the last door on the left, I hear their voices through the closed door. I can't fool myself otherwise. Sapphire's quick tone, Brynjolf's easy lilt, they are easy to distinguish, though most of the words are muffled. I listen to Sapphire talking. I hear him talking. I move closer.

He says he needs to go back. She's says she's scared. She doesn't want to go back to the Cistern, in case someone is watching the graveyard, in case someone set her up and they'll follow her back to the Guild. He tells her to stay here tonight, it's safe, she'll be safe. She says she'll stay only if he stays, he makes her feel safe. One of them kisses the other. He murmurs something I don't hear, murmurs her name, before they kiss again. And again. I don't hear the sounds of clothes being taken off. They are already naked. They have been here for a while.

I want to leave but my body refuses to move, some part of me wanting the torture; and so I stand there for too long, listening to them as they get into it, my skin crawling and my heart thudding loudly, so loudly I'm convinced they'll hear. They don't. It feels like a long time, each kiss, each groan, each moan lasting an hour to my ears. My legs keep me rooted in place until I hear her come, with quick quiet moans of pleasure, each hollowing out my stomach. She calls out his name, _Bryn, Bryn, yes, Bryn_ , and I release my own breath with hers, slow, not realising I had been holding it. At last, my legs move.

Downstairs, I consider getting a drink and sitting near the stairway, curious to see what Brynjolf and Sapphire would do when they concluded their business and found me waiting here. _Why should they care?_ I remind myself that this is no betrayal, that I have no claims on Brynjolf and that he owes me nothing, that Sapphire too is free to do as she pleases - but while I know it to be true, my heart still aches as if I've lost something, and I quickly leave the Overlook, wishing I had turned around and left when I had the chance.

I walk back to the Guild, feeling empty in my stomach. I try to put it from my mind, the sounds of the two thieves in bed together, but I hear it in my head, over and over. _Gods, I am stupid._ I don't let myself wonder why Brynjolf even said those things to me if he's so quick to get into bed with the raven-haired thief. _Maybe he's always been in her bed and I just didn't see it,_ I think, recalling what Mercer had said. I start to think of their interactions when I have witnessed them, wondering how I did not see anything between them, starting to imagine all the interactions I have not witnessed.

 _Well, he was clearly convincing enough to Sapphire,_ I think, wondering if it was a challenge to get through the defences that the raven-haired thief keeps high around herself, wondering how it felt for Sapphire to be close to a man after what happened to her, wondering if she was as scared as I am. _But Brynjolf makes her feel safe,_ I realise, knowing she and I have more in common than our scarred pasts.

By the time I return to the Guild, it's nearly dawn. Below ground, the rushing sound of the Cistern soothes me, alleviating the ache in my heart for a few fragile moments as I stand at the water's edge. _This was a distraction,_ I realise, as I look into the water, remembering the blood I washed from my hands not so long ago. _A stupid distraction._ It hits me that while Astrid still lives, none of the rest matters, not Brynjolf, not Sapphire, not even myself. _I need nothing else but her death and my revenge. I want nothing else but that._

Suddenly I remember my first night here, remembering that I was only ever here for the gold. The thought calms me as I close my eyes and listen to the water, convincing myself that my only concern is finding Astrid and ensuring I have enough money to take me to wherever she is. _Let them do what they want, if it makes them happy, that's all that matters._

As I look towards my bed, wanting nothing more than to curl up and sleep, I see Mercer is back at his desk and I know he has waited up for me to return. As he looks up at me, I see the laughter in his eyes even from this distance.

'Wren,' he calls, the amusement apparent in his voice. 'Here, now.'

I consider ignoring him, not wanting to see his satisfaction up close, but when he calls my name again, his tone sharper, I decide against refusing his command. _Annoying the Guildmaster would just be the crown on top of a shit night,_ I think as I walk over to Mercer's desk, arms folded, trying to keep my feelings off my face.

Mercer eyes me as I come to stand before him, and I know he can see straight through my impassive mask. 'I didn't want to be right, you know.' His voice suggests the opposite. 'But unfortunately those two have history and you can't keep them apart for long.'

'Did you want me for something?' I say sharply.

Mercer tilts his head, a smile forming at his mouth. 'Why the bad temper? I didn't crush your heart, did I?' he says sarcastically. 'So the little bird actually has a heart? How... sweet.'

'Fuck off, Mercer,' I snap, turning away, having had more than enough of being his amusement for the night.

I haven't walked very far before the Guildmaster moves around his desk and catches up with me, grabbing my arm and jerking me back to him. 'Watch how you talk to me, Wren,' he says coldly. 'Unless you want me to throw your ass out onto the streets with nothing but the clothes on your back.' He looks down at me, his hold like steel, his gaze like ice. 'Maybe I'll even take those too. Then maybe you'll realise a little bird like you could get herself into a lot of trouble if she's not careful.'

The knot in my stomach tightens abruptly at his words but barely a moment passes before Mercer releases my arm and steps back, the now-familiar smirk at his mouth once more.

'Now fuck off and go to bed,' he says, and I'm only too eager to comply, even though it angers me to give him the satisfaction of my obedience.

By my bed, I pull off my boots and jacket and put away my dagger, but I wait until I hear Mercer leave the Cistern and go to his room before I undress and climb between the sheets, my body exhausted, my mind reeling. _Was it only last night that I cut the Dunmer's throat?_ I wonder before I can stop myself, before I remember that I washed away that night with the blood from my hands. _Was it only a few hours earlier that Brynjolf told me he was jealous of another man touching me?_ That memory is easy enough to forget; I drown it in the sound of the two thieves moaning in pleasure.

I don't sleep for a long time, some small part of me keeping the rest of my body awake, waiting to hear the redhead and the raven-haired thief return to the Cistern. They don't. When I hear one of the guildmembers rise from their bed with the new day, I turn to face the wall and huddle down beneath the sheets, letting my exhaustion take me, my last thoughts on Astrid, wondering when she will find out that I have completed my contract, whether she will deliver another assignment to me in person, or whether she'll never make contact with me again.

 _I can't trust that she'll come to me,_ I think as I finally drift off to sleep _. So maybe I should consider going to her._

*

I sleep for much of the day. When I finally get up, I take it to be the late afternoon. I don't see any sign of Sapphire of Brynjolf; the only people I see in the Cistern are Thrynn and a couple of female guildmembers over in the kitchen, the ex-bandit retelling a daring raid he once carried out. Relief rushes through me as I listen to Thrynn's voice echoing in the depths of the cavern; no part of me is looking forward to seeing the redhead or the raven-haired thief, and the fact that neither of them are here makes me feel a little more inclined to get out of bed.

I spend the rest of the afternoon flitting between the Flagon and the Cistern, waiting for Mercer or Delvin to show their faces, knowing one or both might have information on where I can find Astrid. Unfortunately for me, the Guildmaster is the first to make an appearance, and I take a breath before approaching his desk.

'Mercer?' I stand awkwardly as he pores over what appear to be maps of some kind, a small frown at his brow. 'Have you got a minute?'

He looks up. As his dark gaze flickers over my body, I feel a sharp jolt in my stomach and quickly draw my arms over my torso, remembering his words of last night, suddenly feeling as if he has forcibly stripped me of my clothes already. It's as if the Guildmaster notices my uncomfortable reaction - and indeed enjoys it - as he looks back down at the papers with a smirk on his face.

'What do you want, little bird?' he says, his voice brisk. 'If you're here to cry over your broken heart, you can fuck off right now.'

'I'm not,' I say shortly, not wanting to discuss or even think about anything from the previous night. 'I was wondering if I could ask you something...' Suddenly I feel a flicker of nerves and I forget what I was going to say. 'I mean, I just wondered... I wanted your help with something that's been-'

'Gods, just get on with it,' Mercer snaps, not looking up. 'I don't have all day to listen to you trying to make a sentence.'

I almost baulk at his words, before I steel my heart and force myself to continue. 'Astrid,' I say. I hasten to elaborate, not wanting to reveal my true intentions. 'Well, I mean, the Dark Brotherhood in general. When Astrid recruited me, I didn't know anything about them, and I still don't know anything. I don't even know where the Sanctuary is.'

Mercer's attention remains on his work. 'And you're bothering me because...?'

'Everyone says you know everything there is to know about, well, everything,' I say, trying to make my voice softer, sweeter. 'I figured out of all the people I could ask, you would be able to help me.'

'Flattery doesn't work on me,' Mercer says, his tone bored. 'Try another tactic.'

'It's not flattery if it's true,' I say quickly, even as I know I was stupid to try it in the first place. 'I know you know Astrid. I mean, that note you got when she recruited me, she sent it to you directly, didn't she? So you must know her.'

Mercer sighs. 'And what is it _you_ want to know?'

'Where I can find the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary and where I can find Astrid,' I answer swiftly, tired of delaying.

Mercer looks up then, his dark eyes narrowing as he surveys me. 'Are you planning on flying away to the Sanctuary, little bird?' he asks.

'No,' I say, although the thought of spending any more time here appeals very little to me at the moment, not knowing how I will look at Sapphire or Brynjolf without hearing her moan his name and imagining what he was doing to her that made her moan like that.

The Guildmaster laughs. 'You're a fucking terrible liar.' He inclines his head and looks at me for several long moments. 'No,' he says finally. 'I think if Astrid wanted you to know, she would have told you. I'm not telling you anything, Wren.' A small smile forms at his mouth as he evidently enjoys my disappointment, before he looks back down at his work. 'Now was that all? If you're going to stand there all day, at least make it amusing for me and go jump in the water first.'

I feel my cheeks flush and I stalk away without another word. _What else did I expect?_ I think as irritation and disappointment coil in my stomach. _For him to tell me exactly what I needed to know and say you're welcome?_ I mentally slap myself for thinking that Mercer Frey would ever help me.

I head to the Ragged Flagon and order a drink, waiting at the bar for Delvin to show up. He takes his time. The old thief has clearly had a successful prior engagement, as he comes into the tavern an hour later unable to keep the grin off his face.

'Saved it for you,' I say, patting his normal stool and giving him a smile.

'Have you been drinking alone?' Delvin makes a _tsk_ sound as he settles in his stool and Vekel puts a brimming tankard in front of him. 'Well, don't worry, sweetheart. I'm always in the mood to keep a pretty lady company.' He nods at Vekel, who brings me another cup of my favourite wine, knowing well enough what it is by now.

I accept the drink gladly. 'I'm actually in the middle of a Brotherhood contract,' I tell Delvin, sipping my wine. 'I just wanted to ask you something.'

'Ah,' he says, taking a deep drink from his tankard. 'So this is business, not pleasure.'

'Can't it be both?' I say, my voice like honey, to which I receive his hacking laughter.

'I suppose it can, sweetheart,' Delvin says. 'Well, tell me what you want to know and we'll see what I can divulge.'

'Well, it's my current contract. I need to speak to Astrid about it, but she hasn't given me any way to contact her.' I pause. 'Do you know where I might find her?'

'Ah, Astrid.' Delvin grins with some memory I'm not sure I want to know. 'A lovely creature, like yourself. But I don't think I'll be able to help you there. She's one of those women who can't be found unless she wants to be.'

'What about their Sanctuary?' I ask, trying not to let my disappointment show. 'Do you know where that is?'

Delvin takes another drink from his tankard, his eyes surveying me with curiosity. 'Aye, sweetheart, but it's classified. On a strictly need-to-know basis.'

'But I need to know, Delvin,' I say sweetly, nudging his leg with my foot.

The old thief grins at my efforts. 'Sorry, love, but I'm not about to cross Astrid. We... well, we have our history. You know what I mean?'

'Everyone has fucking history, apparently,' I say before I can stop myself, thinking of Sapphire and the redhead, irritation cutting through me hard as I realise Delvin isn't going to tell me anything either.

Delvin chuckles. 'Something else on your mind, darlin'? I might be able to help.'

'Nothing,' I say firmly. I pause, deciding to push a little further. 'What about Mercer? What's his history with Astrid? He knows her pretty well, right?'

'Mercer? He and Astrid have what you'd call an... arrangement. There was some bad blood between them, but it's to be expected from any Guildmaster and leader of the Brotherhood.' Delvin shrugs. 'Relations between our families have never exactly been stable, sweetheart; too much shared interest, you might say. When Astrid took charge of the Brotherhood, things were a little less stable. I said she's a private person, so naturally, she didn't much like that we at the Guild make it our business to know everything.' He scoffs into his tankard. 'But that's our job, see. How else are we going to blackmail people and extort the gold we want if we don't know how to get them drunk or what they like in bed?' Delvin raises his tankard to me, a roguish smile on his face. 'I've still to get two out of two with you, sweetheart.'

I laugh and raise my cup to his before taking a sip, thinking fast.

'So Mercer has that sort of dirt on everyone, even someone like Astrid?' I say, as if I don't believe it, as if it's just an idle question, as if I'm not hanging on Delvin's every word. 'How is that even possible? The man's smart but no one can remember the favourite drink and sexual perversion of every important person in Skyrim.'

'Well, he's got files, of course,' Delvin says. 'I reckon they're more valuable than any pretty piece of jewellery you could steal. But Mercer's also got a sense for these things, you know? Doesn't need it in writing. That's what makes a true thief, sweetheart. Good instincts.'

I long to return the conversation to Mercer's files - and specifically the location of those files - but I'm conscious of making my intentions obvious. Delvin is no fool and I know he would wonder why my sudden interest in the Guildmaster's secret documents.

_Secret documents that might have some information on Astrid._

I smile at the old thief as my heart races with excitement over the potential lead. 'And do you have those good instincts too, Delvin?' I ask charmingly.

'Of course.' My attentions seem to please him and he leans in. 'Do you know what my instincts told me the moment you walked into the Flagon for the first time, trailing behind Bryn all quiet and meek and looking like we were going to eat you alive?'

'You've never told me,' I say, although I'm not sure I want to know.

'I knew that you were going to change things around here. That you'd be good for this place.' Delvin leans back, grinning. 'And that one day you'll make my dreams come true and kiss me, sweetheart.'

I laugh. 'One day, Delvin,' I say lightly. 'Buy me enough wine and we'll see.'

Delvin accepts the challenge and I spend a while drinking with him, until the Tonilia appears to discuss business and the old thief pulls out some papers and I get the hint that he needs to work. I leave them to it, my mind racing with what I learnt. _Where would Mercer keep these files?_ The answer isn't hard to guess, though the thought sends a shiver down my spine. _I guess I'm breaking into his room, then._

When I enter the Cistern again, I hear raised voices and look to the source, realising with an uncomfortable twist in my stomach that Brynjolf has returned and is talking with Mercer at his desk. _More like arguing,_ I realise. Brynjolf's tone is abrupt, his arms folded, his broad shoulders tense. Even from the distance, I can see he looks tired. _Well, I would be tired too if I had been fucking Sapphire all night,_ I think before I remind myself it's none of my business. Nor is the argument taking place, but I linger at the edge of the Cistern anyway to listen in.

'I told you, I can do it by myself-'

Mercer cuts over the redhead. 'You know the lizard as well as I do, Brynjolf. He won't be so easy to persuade.'

'I don't give a shit,' Brynjolf snaps. 'I'll deal with him on my own, I don't need or want her coming with me.'

Mercer snorts with laughter. 'Don't you? Well, too bad. I want that information whether you have to beat it out of him or the girl has to get on her knees and suck on his little scaly cock for it.'

'If you think she'll do that, you're a fucking idiot,' Brynjolf says.

Mercer doesn't seem to mind the redhead's tone and only smirks. 'Is that so? From what I hear, maybe she'll do it if you blindfold the bitch and tell her it's you.'

Before Brynjolf can retort, Mercer's gaze suddenly flickers over to me and the smirk at his mouth widens; I consider making a run for it back to the Flagon, but before I can even move the Guildmaster calls across the Cistern to me.

'Wren, come over here for a minute,' he says.

Brynjolf's head whips around and I see the anger burning bright in his eyes before his expression rearranges at the sight of me; his mouth curves into the familiar charming smile and his gaze follows me closely as I approach, though I'm convinced I see a flicker of wariness in his green eyes as I walk over.

 _He doesn't know I know,_ I realise. I force myself to return his smile as if I also don't know, having no desire to ever mention what l overheard last night, much less with the Guildmaster present to enjoy my pain.

'What is it?' I say, stopping at a safe distance, reluctant to be too close to Brynjolf or Mercer, not liking my body's reaction to either of them.

'Just thought you might want to say goodbye,' Mercer says lightly, as if such pleasantries are normal for him. 'Brynjolf is off to Solitude to interrogate an agent of ours who's been stepping out of line. And since Sapphire's little run in with the law last night, we figured she might as well go too. Clear her head. Keep her safe.' He looks at Brynjolf. 'You will keep her safe, won't you?'

Brynjolf's jaw is set as he looks at Mercer. 'Of course I will,' he says shortly.

'Good.' The Guildmaster appears to be enjoying himself, and I know it's at my expense as he turns to look at me, his dark eyes glittering. 'See, Wren, you don't need to worry about Sapphire. Brynjolf will look after her to the best of his abilities, just like he did last night.'

I force myself to meet the redhead's eyes, anger flaring inside me at the Guildmaster's obvious attempt to toy with me. 'Well, good luck, then,' I say, trying not to sound bitter or like anything is different than it was two days ago, before we kissed in the alley, before he told me he was jealous, before I heard first-hand exactly how he looks after Sapphire.

'Thanks, lass,' Brynjolf says with a smile, and suddenly I don't want to stand here any longer, unable to look at him without hearing him murmur Sapphire's name as he kissed her, as he fucked her, as he made her come.

'Was that all?' I say abruptly to Mercer.

The Guildmaster laughs. 'So bad-tempered today, little bird. Something on your mind?'

I feel Brynjolf's eyes on me and I hear him and Sapphire moaning in my head. _How often are they going to fuck while on their trip to Solitude?_   'Why do you care?' I snap at Mercer, having had enough of him trying to wind me up. 'Are we done here?'

I'm surprised when the Guildmaster doesn't react to my tone. 'Yes, we're done,' he says with a smile. 'Fly away.'

I don't have to be told twice, and I leave quickly, deciding to go above ground and lose myself in the city for a while, not wanting to be anyway near the Guild. _At least I won't have to run into Sapphire and Brynjolf for a while,_ I think, even as I feel an undeniable flicker of jealousy that they will be alone together for weeks. _They've been alone together for years before I even got here,_ I remind myself, suddenly feeling like an intruder.

I haven't reached the Cistern door before Brynjolf catches up with me. 'Hey, lass, can I have a second?' he says from behind, but I find I can't even turn around.

'Sorry,' I say over my shoulder, trying to think of an excuse. 'I... need to talk to Delvin,' I tell him, before I realise I'm going in completely the wrong direction to do that.

'He can wait.' The redhead takes my arm gently and I've no choice but to stop and face him.

To be close to Brynjolf again reminds me of what it was like in the alley, to have his body against mine, his mouth on mine, his tongue licking at mine. Then I picture him with the raven-haired thief and the pathetic fluttering in my stomach turns to tight knots.

I force a smile on my face. 'That was good of you to help Sapphire last night,' I say before he can speak. 'Getting her out of jail can't have been easy.'

'Well, apparently I'm the only idiot around here who can pay off a jailer.' His easy smile and voice bear no suggestion that anything might be amiss, and the realisation that he is going to pretend as if he wasn't fucking Sapphire all night hits me hard. _The stupid little bird does have a heart,_ I think bitterly, feeling it break.

'Where is she?' I ask.

'She's safe, I promise,' Brynjolf says. 'She said to tell you she's fine. She just doesn't want to be near the Guild right now, in case someone's following her. She thinks she might have been set up.'

 _I already know that,_ I want to say, remembering what I overheard of their conversation. 'Well, I'm just glad she's all right,' I say, as the rest of what I overheard last night replays in my head too. 'Sorry but I really have to go.'

'Hang on a second.' Brynjolf catches my wrist and holds me in place. His eyes scan my face. 'I promised I'd do a better job of convincing you, didn't I?' His charming smile cuts my heart. 'I don't want you to think I've forgotten, lass, because trust me, I haven't.'

'I don't need convincing,' I say abruptly. 'Just leave it, all right?'

'Just leave it?' Brynjolf repeats, the smile still on his face but doubt flickering in his eyes. He doesn't let go of my wrist. 'Look, I'm not going to Solitude til tomorrow. By my reckoning I now owe you at least two drinks. And we were going to go somewhere far from the Guild and everyone else, weren't we?'

 _How about the Overlook?_   'Don't bother,' I say, my voice sharper than I intend. 'You look tired. You should get some rest before you and Sapphire head to Solitude. I imagine the journey will be quite exhausting for you. Now please-' I pull my hand out of his hold. 'Just leave me alone, Brynjolf.'

I turn and leave the Cistern before I can look at his expression, my stomach twisting with regret, wishing the words back in my mouth. True to my demand, Brynjolf doesn't follow me. The sound of the rushing water starts to fade.

 _A stupid distraction,_ I remind myself, trying to stop my heart from beating so fast as I climb up the ladder to the graveyard. _Forget it. Forget him. He'll be gone to Solitude soon, then I won't have to feel like this anymore._

 _And maybe I'll be gone soon too._ It suddenly hits me that I might not see the auburn-haired thief again, if I get the information I need to find Astrid before he returns to Riften. _It's easier that way,_ I think firmly, ignoring the way my stomach feels hollow at thought.

As I leave the tomb and breathe in the dusk air, the scent of nightshade reaches me, the bitter smell no longer terrifying. _It's a reminder. It's Astrid._ I force my head to be clear of everything, focusing my mind on my task as I remind myself that I have to get my hands on Mercer's documents, knowing that the risk of breaking into his room is worth even the slightest chance he might have something that will help me find and destroy Astrid.

_And his files will surely be more accommodating than the Guildmaster himself._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this monster 7.6k+ chapter, I hope you're still alive after that! I put all these scenes into one chapter partly because they all flow into each other anyway and partly because I just want them done and wrapped up in one go... *whispers* so I can smut to my heart's content in the next chapter - I randomly always planned for chapter 8 to be the start of the smut so I'm only over by one! *quietly pretends I don't write ridiculously long chapters, knowing that by normal standards we'd be at chapter 15 or so by now*  
> Also I don't know how it happened but the upcoming smut has somehow reached 7.5k words. So please see this monster chapter as a nice warm up for you for the next update :)


	9. Shackled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *blushes hard*  
> You know what's coming... ;) at last, right? Now that I've got all the build up out the way (along with Brynjolf temporarily *cries*), let the Mercer/Wren stuff begin. Also I'm really nervous about this, I've never shared any smut before so not exactly sure how this is going to go down or if it's even any good, but this is the scene that started this whole long debacle of a story so here you go, hope you enjoy!  
> And yes this is just one scene but somehow it spiralled into what is now officially the longest chapter of Birdsong to date. Yes indeed I wrote 8k words of aggressive Mercer and smut, what is my life *hides in shame*

I work as fast as I can, cursing with each broken pick and exhaling slowly to keep my hand and heart steady. I force aside everything of the last few days - the awkward goodbye with Sapphire as I tried to pretend I haven't heard her moaning in pleasure, the way Brynjolf did just as I requested and left me alone, the tense waiting for Mercer to leave the Cistern so I could sidle down the passageway off one of the alcoves and come to stand before the door to the Guildmaster's room.

 _And the way my heart keeps getting faster every time this door refuses to fucking open,_ I think as I drop another broken lockpick. Although prepared for a challenge, it takes a long time to break in, and after what feels like an hour I almost lose heart and give up, knowing it would not go well for me if Mercer walked down the passageway and found me here.

Just when I'm about to admit defeat, I finally hear the lock give. I hold my breath and adjust the pick a hair's breadth. The resulting click is sweeter than any sound I've ever heard and I feel a thrill chase through me, realising that I have just broken into the private room of the leader of the Thieves Guild. _And it'll be just as sweet when I slit Astrid's throat,_ I think as I scoop up the sizeable pile of broken picks triumphantly and stuff them into a pocket before standing up and slowly pushing open the door to Mercer's room. The hinges well-oiled, it doesn't make a sound. I walk inside and close the door firmly behind me.

The Guildmaster's room is decorated with minimal flair like the rest of the Cistern, but the furniture and wall hangings are expensive, even to my largely untrained eye. The place is cast in a flickering light from the half a dozen or so candles still burning on a desk over on the far side, the surface of which is littered with papers held in messy piles beneath stacks of coins and gems. Without delay, I head towards it before I notice the substantial iron safe on the other side of the large wooden-framed bed. I can tell without even looking too closely that the lock on the safe is far beyond my skill or luck, but on top of it there are more stacks of papers, all bound in different coloured leather sheaths, neater than those on the desk, seemingly in some semblance of order. Assuming that the papers on the desk are the drafts and the books atop the safe are the finished product, I step around the bed and hurry to the iron safe. The books appear to be categorised by markings I cannot decode and so I start at the first book on the left, hoping, perhaps naively, that Mercer likes alphabetising his dirt.

Disappointment cuts through me as I realise that Mercer's documents appear to be written entirely in code and are completely unreadable.

'Fuck,' I murmur. I put the first dossier back and choose another at random, the leather sheath tinted a different colour, but this too is illegible to me and I feel frustration rising fast inside me, wondering how I'll know if I'm even reading about Astrid, let alone how I will narrow down the information I need to find and destroy her.

 _And I thought getting in here was the hard bit._ I mentally reprimand myself for my stupidity in thinking I'd find exactly what I needed just waiting for me.

My frustration rising fast, I try another book, and another, not wanting to waste the opportunity, but besides from a few sketches and maps of places I don't know, I cannot decipher a thing. I shove the book back into its place and swear under my breath again. _Maybe I should just take his gold and gems and be done with it,_ I think, even as I pull out one more file, still fooling myself that I can find something worthwhile.

Before I've even opened the pages, I hear the quiet click of the door closing, and it's like a knife cuts down through my heart down to my stomach.

_Fuck._

I drop the book on the ground and whirl around to find Mercer standing in front of the closed door. My blood turns cold and my heart stops for a moment as our eyes meet, mine wide in fear, his dark and narrowed.

 _And almost surprised._ There's a brief moment when I think the Guildmaster is caught off-guard that I managed to break into his room. Then his eyes catch the uneasy candlelight and I see the fury burning like fire.

'Well, this should be amusing,' Mercer says softly, unnerving me when I expected him to shout. His eyes never leaving mine, he takes a key from his trouser pocket and locks the door behind him.

I try to speak, to explain, to lie, but as he puts the key back into his pocket, I can only stand there, my body frozen in fear, and before I can reconnect my mind to think of a way out, Mercer strides across the room and grabs me by the throat.

I cry out as he shoves me hard against the wall, holding me there with his grip like steel at my neck.

'And just what the hell do you think you're doing in here?' he says, his voice low and dangerous.

'Look, Mercer, I was just-' My mind goes blank and I can't think of any lie as to why I broke into his room. Any words I might've said choke in my throat as his hand tightens around my neck and I start to struggle to breathe.

'Just...? Just what? Just... stuttering? Trying to come up with a bullshit excuse?' Mercer snorts with derision as he looks down at me, and I see the fury in his eyes change to contempt. 'Gods, you're not really a Dark Brotherhood assassin, are you? When you get caught with your dagger in someone's throat, do you just stand there dumb and wait for the guards to haul your ass to jail?' He laughs a short laugh. 'Or maybe you've never actually killed anyone with that little dagger of yours.'

His pressure on my neck increases and I feel the blood pounding in my head as my body begs for breath, and I clutch feebly at his arms. Mercer releases me abruptly a few seconds later. He takes a step back, his mouth curling into a smile as I gasp to take in air and touch my throat gingerly, my fear diminishing beneath my own fury, wondering if I could reach for my little dagger and kill him before he drew his own twin blades, wanting him to know how much blood the Blade of Justice has tasted and spilt over my hands.

Mercer's eyes narrow as if he hears my thoughts. 'Do you really think you can fool me, Wren?' The way his mouth twists sarcastically over my name lets me know exactly what he thinks of my fake identity. Then his eyes flash into mine. 'Turn around, little bird.'

He doesn't wait for me to obey, grabbing my shoulders and turning me around before pushing me face first against the wall. I'm just quick enough to get my hands up and in front of my face to protect it from hitting against the stone. The Guildmaster laughs softly again as I gasp in pain and before I can try to get away I feel his body close behind mine and his hands run swiftly down my sides and around to my chest, checking my pockets, pulling out their contents and throwing them to the floor.

'I haven't taken anything,' I tell him quickly, hearing my coin purse and lockpicks fall to the ground.

Mercer doesn't reply. My upper body checked, he reaches down and I feel a nervous jolt in my lower stomach as he removes the Blade of Justice from my thigh. I hear the dagger clatter to the floor and my entire body tenses as Mercer's hands move purposefully over my hips and thighs, his quick fingers searching my pockets there.

'Well, you're proving to be a shit thief as well,' he says a moment later, stepping back, having ascertained I managed to steal nothing from him. I take my hands from the wall and go to turn around, but he grabs my wrists and twists them behind my back, shoving me front-first to the wall again, the side of my face hitting the rough stone hard. 'No, did I tell you to move?' he snaps. 'You move and I break your fucking arms.'

I swear as pain shoots up to my shoulders and through my head but I don't struggle, not doubting his threat. _Gods, why didn't I leave earlier?_ I think, wishing I had just stolen his gold and left when I could.

I remain motionless facing the wall as Mercer releases his hold on me and walks away, his footsteps across the room drowned by my racing heartbeat - though I hear clearly enough the sounds of a drawer opening and then the metallic slither of chains. Before I can process what's happening or even think of moving he is behind me again and he grabs my forearms, twisting them back behind me, and a moment later I feel cold metal cuffs close with a quiet click about my wrists.

'What the fuck-' I start to say as panic races inside me and I try to pull my hands free of the shackles; though my hands are small, the metal binds are too tight around my wrists for my hands to slip out, and when I try to jerk my arms apart behind my back, I find a short chain links the two cuffs together. As I hear Mercer step back with a quiet laugh, I realise the shackles are not coming loose. Hot anger floods through me. 'You fucking bastard!'

'Shh. Since you're clearly such an expert at picking locks, why don't you get yourself out of those?' Mercer laughs again. 'Turn around. I want to watch.'

I whirl around to face him. His eyes glitter with amusement and I feel another keen jolt in my stomach as his gaze meanders up and down my body, taking in my bound form with satisfaction.

'Where's the fucking key?' I say viciously, conscious of my inability to defend myself physically if he draws his daggers.

The Guildmaster moves back to lean against his desk. 'Just shut up and get on with it, Wren,' he says. A cold smile pulls at his mouth. 'If you got in here surely you can manage those binds.'

'Where is the key?' I demand again, struggling against the cuffs, hearing the chain clink behind me. 'You son of a-'

'Don't test my patience,' he snaps, his smile vanishing as quickly as it came. 'You're lucky I haven't slit your throat. Tell me what you were looking for in here and your pretty little neck might remain that way.'

I don't even consider telling him the truth. 'Information,' I answer shortly, knowing full well that it won't be enough.

As expected, Mercer only looks at me, unimpressed.

'It's Dark Brotherhood business,' I say. 'You know I can't talk about that.'

'Like hell you can't,' he says. 'Answer my question now or it's going to be a long night for you, Wren.'

'It'll be a longer night for me if I give away Brotherhood secrets,' I say, even as my heart beats nervously at his words. 'I'm working on a contract. Astrid said if I jeopardise it, she'll kill me.'

'And what do you think I do to thieving little sluts who go places they shouldn't?' Mercer says, raising an eyebrow.

I clench my jaw and stare back at him, not letting my fear or discomfort show, even as the binds dig into my wrists behind my back and my body turns cold at his words.

At my silence, Mercer makes a quiet laugh and his hands go to his chest. 'A long night it is, then,' he says mildly as he starts removing his jacket, his fingers loosening the buckles and fastenings slowly. 'Though I suggest you tell me what information you were after before I lose my patience with you.'

'It's Brotherhood business,' I say again, wary of his movements. 'I've been working on an important contract and thought you might have information on a mark I'm trying to reach. That's all.'

'What mark?' His hands move steadily down the fastenings at his stomach.

'I can't tell you,' I say firmly, knowing it'd be a mistake that could cost me everything. Without knowing exactly what relationship Astrid and Mercer enjoyed in the past - and the terms of their relationship now - I cannot know he wouldn't betray my plans to her. Even if he didn't tell her, I have the unnerving suspicion that once I voice my intentions, someone will hear, someone will know, someone will stop me, and Astrid will end up killing me before I even get close enough to bring the Blade of Justice to her throat.

Mercer doesn't respond to my words. He holds my gaze as he finishes removing his jacket and lays the discarded garment on the back of the chair at his desk. 'Don't you remember how much easier this goes when you co-operate, Wren?' he says finally.

'Look, I'm sorry I broke into your room,' I say sharply, 'but it's got nothing to do with the Guild, so what I was looking for is no concern of yours.'

'Everything that happens here is a concern of mine,' he snaps, an irritated frown at his brow. 'You seem to forget that you work for me before you work for that bitch Astrid.'

'That bitch Astrid?' I repeat, trying not to let my interest show in my voice. 'I thought you had an... arrangement with her.'

His eyes narrow. 'What has Delvin been filling your little head with? The Guild and the Brotherhood have an agreement not to step on each other's toes and that's all you need to know.' His gaze moves over my bound form again. 'And that I don't need to hire an assassin to do my dirty work. When I kill someone, I prefer that they know exactly who is killing them, and why.'

'And you're really going to kill me for breaking into your room?' I say, trying to sound incredulous, even though I wouldn't put such a thing past him. 'I didn't even take anything.'

Mercer raises an eyebrow. 'Then clearly you're a useless thief, in which case I've got no use for you here at all, have I?'

I open my mouth and close it, not sure how to argue his assessment.

He smirks again. 'Nothing to say? Good. You're prettier when you don't talk.'

He loosens the ties of his shirt before he swiftly pulls it up and over his head. I can't help my gaze as it races over his bare torso, my eyes following the taut muscles that ripple over his chest and abdomen, his skin scarred in more places than I can count. _How many people have tried to kill him and failed?_ The thought frightens me. I think of my dagger lying useless on the floor and how my small and slight body barely reaches Mercer's broad shoulders. I feel the hard shackles digging in at my wrists and a flutter of nerves cut through my lower stomach.

Mercer catches the direction of my gaze before I have time to return my attention to his face. A small smile sets in at his mouth. 'Tell me who your mark is and what information you were looking for,' he says, almost lazily, as if he knows already, or at least knows that I'm not going to answer him.

'No,' I say firmly, holding my ground, although under his gaze my legs feel unsteady.

He makes a _tsk_ sound before he strides over to me. I back away instinctively, although I've nowhere to go; my bound arms hit the wall behind me with a quiet clink as the chains scrape the stone. That makes him laugh quietly.

'Do you think you're going anywhere?' Mercer says as he comes to stand before me. His proximity sets my heart beating faster, and as his gaze flickers down my body, I am suddenly twice as conscious of the binds keeping my arms useless behind me. Mercer must be thinking of them too. 'You can't get out of those shackles, can you, little bird?' he says softly.

I glare at the Guildmaster, not needing to confirm it for him.

That makes him laugh again. 'Don't look at me like that. You're lucky I'm in a good mood.'

'Give me the fucking key-' I start angrily, but he raises his hand and presses it over my mouth, silencing my demand.

'Be careful, Wren,' he says, his voice low, his eyes penetrating mine. 'Since you're clearly not going to co-operate or manage to get out of those shackles yourself, the only way you're leaving this room is if I feel inclined to let you go.' Mercer uncovers my mouth but he doesn't take his hand away; he runs his fingertips along my lips slowly, a cold smile pulling at his own mouth as he looks down at me. 'And I'm more inclined to find out if that little mouth of yours has a use besides talking.'

At his words, a strange feeling ripples through my lower stomach. _Fear,_ I think, and while I can't deny it, I'm conscious that it's not the only reason I feel the nervous tightness in my stomach and the shiver down my lower back.

Afraid of what he wants and afraid of myself, I can only stand in fear as Mercer's hand traces down my throat and to the collar of my jacket, my body freezing at the touch of his fingers on the bare skin of my neck. His dark gaze holds mine as he raises his other hand and he begins to unfasten my jacket.

'Don't-' I start to protest, trying to move to the side and get away from him, but Mercer grasps the collar of my jacket tight and holds me firm against the wall, his arms like steel.

'One more word and I'll gag you as well,' he says quietly. 'And then I'll make you wish I hadn't.'

He releases me and his fingers work quickly at the fastenings down my torso before he pulls open my jacket, my breath catching as his hands brush against my breasts through my shirt, the feeling in my stomach heightening abruptly.

Mercer pushes my jacket back over my shoulders, though my bound arms prevent him from taking it off completely. He takes a step back, and I think for a moment that he's had enough, that I've amused him enough, that his words are all idle threats. _That's as stupid as believing I'd find what I needed in his files,_ I think, feeling my heart skip a beat when the Guildmaster draws one of his golden daggers, the candlelight glinting off the sharp blade.

He smirks as my eyes widen in fear. 'If I was going to kill you tonight, little bird, I would've done it already,' he says as his left hand grasps at the neck of my shirt and he brings the dagger close to my neck. 'And I can think of more inventive ways of killing you than slitting your throat.'

In one quick motion, he brings the tip of the dagger down from my neck to my navel, cutting clean through my shirt. The sound of the material tearing sends a shiver through me that I know he notices. My pulse thuds violently as Mercer brings the dagger back up and does the same to my binding before he swiftly rips the torn pieces apart to reveal my breasts.

His slow satisfied smile as he looks over me makes my stomach flip and an unexpected warmth flood through me, even as my bare chest and torso seem to shiver with goosebumps. I struggle instinctively to cover myself, the chain behind me taut and clinking as I try and fail to bring my arms in front of my body in order to close the open pieces of my shirt. That only makes Mercer laugh quietly.

'Come on, now you don't want me to see you?' He moves closer, his gaze flickering down over my breasts once more before he looks back into my eyes, his own glinting with satisfaction. 'Then maybe you shouldn't have been standing in the middle of my room, like a frightened little bird caught in the torchlight.' He leans close, bringing his mouth to my ear. 'Just waiting for me to find you and strip your feathers.'

His low voice seems to thrum throughout my body, every part of me on edge as I feel his breath on my ear and his body close to mine. _Every part of me,_ I realise with a jolt. Unbidden, I feel a flicker of desire cut through me as I am forced to remember the last time I was bare and this close to a man, how I ripped open my shirt of my own volition, how it felt to have the dark elf's hands on my breasts, his mouth, his tongue, how I _wanted_ it. I feel my heart racing fast, my blood like fire, like I am straddling his hips and his hard cock is pressing between my legs and making me feel in a way I didn't know possible.

'So what else have you been hiding under those clothes?' Mercer says softly, stepping back, toying with the dagger in his hands as his gaze moves over me languidly. 'You want me to find out, don't you?'

My breath catches in my throat with the question. _Tell him no, tell him to fuck off and unbind me,_ I beg my mouth and tongue, but the two seem to ignore my pleas. My lips part but no words come, only a quiet intake of breath as I realise my body is warm and nervous and aches with the same longing that I felt when Brynjolf kissed me with his tongue, when the Dunmer was underneath me, when I craved something my mind didn't even want to comprehend. For the first time, I seem to forget what came before. I forget the years of pain, of fear, of being used in a way I did not ask for. I forget everything except the feeling inside me, a feeling I did not ask for either.

The Guildmaster returns his dagger to his hip, the sound of the blade slipping into the sheathe sending a shiver through me. He steps up close to me again and his hands go to the ties of my trousers. I feel another jolt through my lower stomach and my arms make a last instinctive attempt to break free of the shackles and stop him, but Mercer's deft fingers undo the fastenings in moments and before I can reconnect my mind with my body, his hand pushes down beneath my smallclothes and between my legs.

I gasp, partly at his touch, partly with the realisation that his strong slender fingers find me warm and wet.

'I'll take that for a yes.' Mercer watches my face with a smirk at his mouth as his fingers quickly find where I am most sensitive before I even acknowledge that part of me exists, the skilful touch of his fingers at my clit sending pleasure cutting through me, and while somewhere in my mind I plead for my body not to react, I feel his touch between my legs swiftly working me wetter.

When Mercer's hand moves up to roughly cup my breast, my breath catches loudly with my sudden sensitivity, my nipple stiffening under one sweep of his thumb, and Mercer laughs.

'A resounding yes,' he says as he toys with me for a moment. 'And here I thought you might at least try to pretend you didn't want it. I suppose your little cunt is stronger than your mind, isn't it?' His eyes flash into mine with amusement. 'Let's find out, shall we?'

Abruptly he takes his hands from me and wrenches my trousers down to my ankles, my body flinching with the cool air and at being stripped bare. Mercer briefly drops to one knee to pull off my boots and free my legs from my trousers before he stands up and steps back from me.

The way his dark eyes move over my naked bound body makes the shackles feel tighter at my wrists.

'You look better featherless,' Mercer tells me, his gaze meandering over my breasts and between my legs. 'I've a mind to ban you from wearing anything in the Cistern again. You're a fucking useless thief but you can at least give me something to look at.' His gaze returns to my eyes. 'But you want me to do more than look, don't you?' He points to the edge of the bed. 'Sit there,' he orders.

I stay where I am against the wall, afraid and uncertain, suddenly realising that this is no pretence or convincing act, that I have no dagger to bury in his throat, that the only way out of here is if he lets me go. Aware of the way he intends this to end, and the way I unexpectedly want it to end, a cold shiver crawls down my back even as I feel the eager wet ache of desire between my legs, the contradiction freezing my body in its fear and longing.

At my hesitation, Mercer's eyes narrow. 'If you're going to start being uncooperative again, I won't play so nice with you, Wren,' he says, his voice harder. 'Sit on that fucking bed now.'

A second passes before my feet take me to the bed. Legs shaking, my body wanting, I sit down on the edge.

'That's better.' Mercer comes over to me and drops onto his knees onto the floor in front of me. 'Maybe this'll teach you to obey me more often, little bird.'

He roughly pulls my legs apart and before I can register my body's instinctive unease at being exposed to him, Mercer grabs my hips, pulling them up and towards him as he brings his mouth to my hot core.

The first lick of his tongue between my legs makes me gasp, not expecting it, not knowing it, not prepared for how it feels as Mercer runs his tongue slow and wide over me. He tastes me once before he pulls back and his eyes flicker up to my face, his dark gaze glittering with amusement at my startled intake of breath. He leans forward once more and I flinch in pleasure as his tongue starts to lick fast and wet against my clit, deftly working me breathless and hot before I can even think about trying to control the feeling rising inside me.

Mercer's fingers dig sharply into the tops of my thighs as he holds me in place but I hardly feel it. Though I try to bite my lip and stop myself, a quiet hitched moan escapes me as the ache of longing between my legs swiftly turns to fierce pleasure; instinctively my legs tighten around Mercer, my hips starting to move urgently against the relentless motion of his tongue, every inch of me wanting more keenly than ever before, my body now knowing exactly what it wants and how it feels to have it.

My bare chest is rising and falling rapidly with my shallow breathing when Mercer suddenly stops and pushes my legs away from him. Before I can stop myself, I whine needily for his tongue to return, despising my body for its reaction but feeling utterly powerless against it.

'Oh, you want me to continue?' Mercer laughs as he wipes his mouth off with the bed sheet before he stands up. As I desperately try to catch my breath and stop the feeling inside me, one of his hands knots tight in my hair at the back of my head while his other hand roughly pulls my jaw up to face him. 'Do I even need to ask? You're wetter than a fucking ocean.' The Guildmaster looks down at me for a few long moments, his eyes hard and laughing at my weakness. 'Beg,' he says.

I stare up at him, cheeks flushed, my breathing fractured, hating him, hating myself for playing into his hands, hating that he was right and knew that my needy body is indeed stronger than my mind.

'I said, _beg_.' Standing between my parted legs, Mercer reaches down with one hand, his fingers slipping back to my wet core to continue the efforts of his tongue at that sensitive part of me, making the pleasure flutter violently through me once more. 'You want me to indulge you? Beg for it.'

'I-' Whatever words I was going to say get lost beneath my hitched moan as his touch between my legs grows rougher, pleasure mounting fast in me.

A moment later, Mercer takes his hand away, making me whimper with need again. He grabs my hair in both hands, my curls loosening from their pins, the slivers of metal scratching painfully at my scalp as he jerks my head back abruptly so I look up at him.

'Beg,' Mercer demands, his voice hard and unyielding. Somewhere in my mind I realise he will not relent unless I give him what he wants, and in that moment, my body cares little to resist.

'Please,' I say frantically, suddenly desperate to have him finish what he has started. 'Please!'

A smirk flashes across Mercer's face before he lets go of me. 'Move back,' he commands as his hands go to his trouser fastenings.

I wriggle backwards on the bed as best I can, my arms useless in their binds and my legs weak from the skill of his tongue and hand. Mercer kicks off his boots and rids himself of his trousers, and the sight of his hard cock floods me with an urgent longing I don't want to feel. Heat rises in my neck with my desire.

His smug smile returns as he notices my shallow breaths. 'Don't worry, little bird, you're going to get it,' he says in a low voice.

Mercer joins me on the bed and moves to kneel up in front of me, pulling me over to him; my arms useless, one of his hands grips my shoulder, holding me up and angled towards his cock, while his other hand knots in my hair at my scalp. He jerks my head forward.

'I don't want you to just look at it,' he snaps. 'Open your fucking mouth.'

My hands bound behind my back, I can't even hold myself upright much less do anything else beyond what he commanded. The moment I open my mouth for him, Mercer pulls my head closer and he pushes his cock between my parted lips. Above me, I hear his breath catch as I take him in, and I barely have time to relax my muscles and widen my mouth for him before he thrusts his cock deep down my throat. My reflexes resist and I choke as he starts to move roughly back and forth against my throat, the pressure hurting my neck, but my moan of discomfort only makes his movements grow rougher, his hand gripping at my scalp as he jerks my head forward in time with his fast thrusts. Incapacitated and useless with my hands or head, I use my mouth and suck down on him hard, running my tongue against his cock as he moves deep inside my mouth, and after a few moments I hear him make a soft hitched laugh.

'Finally a use for you,' he murmurs and his hand tightens in my hair, holding me in place as he thrusts violently against the back of my throat again.

My neck aches when Mercer releases me and pulls his wet cock from my mouth. I barely catch my breath before he shoves me flat on the bed and moves over me, ignoring my gasp of pain at the pressure on my bound arms underneath me, the hardness of the shackles cutting into my skin. He spreads my legs wide and takes his cock in hand, positioning himself at my entrance. Mercer's eyes meet mine as I look up at him, anticipation and apprehension flooding me in equal parts. The Guildmaster looks down at me, the familiar smirk curling at his mouth as his gaze burns with desire, mockery, or satisfaction, I can't tell which or if the dark fire in his eyes is something else altogether; I feel my heart race as I try to discern the look in his gaze, when without warning he suddenly pushes himself roughly inside me.

I cry out loudly, the sharp pain between my legs more than my pleasure, my body startled at the intrusion even as it begged so desperately for it.

Mercer pulls back swiftly and slams into me once more, causing another keen moan to rise in my throat. 'Gods, you're so tight,' he mutters in satisfaction, adjusting his weight on his arms as he leans over me and pushes his cock deeper inside me, and I hear him make a groan of pleasure a moment later when I've taken every inch of him.

I gasp again, feeling my muscles fluttering around his cock desperately to accommodate him. Mercer doesn't wait for me to get used to him as he starts thrusting rough and fast, working himself deep within me at a merciless pace. Before long, a fractured moan escapes me, although I can scarcely tell if it is pain or pleasure that heats my body and quickens my breathing once more.

Distantly, I soon start to become aware of the shackles digging sharply into my wrists and the painful ache in my arms under the pressure of our combined weight and Mercer's unyielding rough force against my body.

'My arms,' I whimper at him, barely able to get my words out, the discomfort of my binds only partly to blame.

Mercer laughs and thrusts hard in me once more. 'I should've known you'd want it from behind,' he says before he pulls out of me, his cock slick. 'More bitch than bird, aren't you?'

His strong hands grasp at my body and quickly he rolls me over onto my front before shoving my face down against the pillow and grabbing my hips. I turn my head to the side and try to catch my breath as Mercer pulls up my lower body until I'm on my knees with my ass in the air. He moves to kneel behind me and without hesitation, he pushes his cock back into my hot wet core and resumes his rough and hard pace, the angle hitting right where my body wants him. I cry out keenly into the pillow with the sensation, pleasure flooding violently through every part of me as he thrusts faster.

His tight grip on my hips starts to hurt but I barely register it in my pleasure, instead feeling the building ache between my legs, hearing his hips slap against my ass, still tasting him in my mouth and feeling him at the back of my throat, every sense heightening as he fucks me hard and relentless.

Suddenly, still inside me, Mercer stops and his hands leave my hips. I cry out longingly, but he doesn't seem to care.

'You break into my room again and I won't be so generous.' He grabs the shackles at my wrists and pulls abruptly, forcibly dragging my upper body backwards so I'm upright on my knees. I cry out as pain shoots through my arms and I hear his voice right in my ear. 'Break in here again and I'll kill you, understood?'

'Yes,' I whimper, my body begging for him to resume his efforts, even as I feel my heart flutter warningly at his threat.

'I didn't hear you,' Mercer says, his words punctuated by his sharp intake of breath as he thrusts upwards inside me.

'Yes!' I cry out, half in pleasure, half in response to his words.

I hear him laugh before he shoves me back down and pulls up my hips again, although he barely needs to hold me now. As he drives his cock faster inside me, I willingly arch my back deep to better feel his brutal thrusts, each making me moan louder and louder with the pleasure until a minute later I'm screaming and my hips shudder as I come hard, the feeling tearing through me like fire for the first time, my whole body tensing violently before my muscles give way and all I can do is gasp desperately for breath into the pillow.

I feel Mercer's pace quickening and he slams into me violently, soon groaning with his own pleasure as he spends himself inside me. His hips jerk fast against my ass as he finishes, his fingers digging into my skin tight to hold my limp body steady.

A few moments later, Mercer pulls out of me and releases my hips, my weak body slumping down onto the bed. His quiet laugh of satisfaction sends a shiver through my dazed hot body and suddenly, finally, my mind reconnects with the rest of me.

_What the hell did I just do?_

I hear the Guildmaster get up from the bed. Realising I am still face down and prone, I force my body to roll over and struggle to a sitting position, every part of me hot and overworked and suddenly shaking with the intense realisation of what happened. Conscious of my nakedness, I draw my legs close to me and I try to bring my arms across my body before I'm reminded of the shackles, feeling the soreness of my wrists from where the metal binds have dug grooves into my skin.

Then I become aware of the fierce ache between my legs and my face warms in the silence as I realise how loudly I screamed.

Mercer takes his time pulling his trousers back on, his gaze flicking over to me as he fastens the ties loosely. The laughter in his dark eyes as he surveys my flushed naked body makes my skin crawl. 'So does the little bird want to go free now, or does she want more?'

Fury burns ferociously in my stomach at the sarcastic satisfied tone of his voice. For a moment, I don't think I can make words, my throat sore with my screams and the hard thrusts of his cock. 'Get the key,' I manage to say sharply, moving my arms against the shackles.

Mercer laughs. 'You sound frustrated, Wren,' he says, his eyes gleaming with amusement. 'Your wet little cunt need another seeing to already?'

'Give me the fucking key,' I snap, my body burning with both the remnants of desire and an intense anger at myself for having felt that desire in the first place.

He laughs again before he goes to his desk and opens one of the drawers, pulling out a small silver key on a chain. When he comes over to the bed and reaches out to me, I recoil instinctively, not wanting his hands anywhere near me now, but Mercer grabs me by the shoulder and pulls me back to him sharply before slipping the chain over my head and around my neck, letting the key hang between my breasts. The metal is cool against my flushed skin.

When he moves away, I realise he doesn't mean to unlock the cuffs himself. I feel another rush of anger before I lean my head down to my breasts and take the chain in my mouth, pulling it with my teeth until I bite down on the key. I straighten up and turn my head, dropping the key over my shoulder so that it hangs down my back, all the while conscious of Mercer's amused gaze as he watches my efforts from where he leans against his desk. Feeling another flicker of fury that he is enjoying my struggle when he could so easily just unlock the cuffs himself, I manage to twist my bound hands upwards behind my back and reach the key at it hangs at my shoulder blades. I gasp with the pain as I yank the key free, the chain digging into my throat before the clasp gives way, and I waste no time in finding the lock on the shackles and finally releasing my wrists from their binds.

My intense moan of relief as I finally move my aching arms forward elicits another laugh from Mercer.

'For such a small thing, you like to make a lot of noise,' he says. 'You're really in the wrong profession, you know that? You're a shit thief and assassin but you'd make a great whore.'

I ignore him as I stand up from the bed, my legs unsteady as I locate my smallclothes and trousers on the floor and start to dress. As I fasten my trousers, I feel the soreness at my hips and see red marks forming on my skin from Mercer's grip, and I pull on my boots quickly, trying not to think about how easily I let him take all my clothes off, how my skin begged for the touch of his hands, how every part of me wanted him.

'So are you going to tell me who your mark is and what you were looking for in here?' Mercer says lazily as I fasten up my jacket, hiding the torn state of my binding and shirt. 'Or do I really have to fuck the information out of you?'

'No,' I snap, starting to pick up my things he emptied from my pockets.

'Are you sure you don't want to rethink that answer? If you tell me the target and what information you were hoping to find, I could be persuaded to help you, Wren.'

As I replace the Blade of Justice at my thigh, I don't hesitate in my answer. Trusting Mercer Frey with my plans would be the very last resort; his association with Astrid aside, I know that he wouldn't offer his help without wanting something else in return, and I suspect that he's not the sort of man to consider bedding a woman as worthy payment for his aid - what I would have to give in return would go beyond spreading my legs for him. _And that's never going to happen again, anyway,_ I think, not sure how I even let it happen in the first place, when I can think of nothing worse than submitting to the Guildmaster, or any man like him.

'Did you ever consider that the mark might be you?' I say pointedly as I turn to look at him.

Mercer snorts with laughter. 'If you're the new standard of Brotherhood assassin, I think I'll be fine.' His dark gaze flickers over my body slowly, and though I am now clothed, I still feel stripped and bound on the bed beneath him. 'And you know that if you ever tried to kill me, I'd do worse than bind your wings and give you the good hard fuck you're begging for, little bird,' he says, inclining his head, his voice quiet and low. 'I'd make sure you never flew again.'

I stare at him, not doubting him for a second. 'Then maybe I should just fly away from here for good while I can,' I say, thinking I should have done it before, realising how stupid I was to break into his room.

'And make your nest with the Dark Brotherhood?' Mercer scoffs and leans back against his desk. 'You're not a killer. You're barely even a thief. You're just a scared little girl playing in worlds too big and dark for her.'

'I'm not playing,' I tell him coldly, before I realise I didn't deny the scared part.

Mercer's expression tells me what he thinks of that. He folds his arms over his still-bare chest. 'Fly away then. You're easy enough to replace. The coin you've brought in has been small change and your skills are average at best.'

I fold my arms too, wanting a triumph over him, feeling as if I am still chained and at his mercy. 'I got through your door, though,' I point out mockingly.

His smile vanishes and his expression turns to ice. 'And I got through yours,' he says. 'Which was the greater challenge?'

He doesn't need an answer as my cheeks flush violently while I think of all my broken lockpicks and how quickly I let him rip my clothes from my body.

Smirking, Mercer pushes away from his desk and goes to the door, taking the key from his pocket and unlocking the door before turning back to me. 'Now fuck off,' he says. 'I'm not going to indulge you a second time tonight and you won't like what I have in mind for you if you stay.'

I heed his dismissal. I stalk past him and out from the room, my blood boiling with no hint of desire now. _Just fury at my own stupidity,_ I think as I slam the Guildmaster's door shut behind me, before the rational part of my mind reminds me that it's probably not the best idea. I hear the echoes of the slamming door in the depths of the Cistern, for a moment louder than the rushing water. _As loud as I screamed for him?_ I wonder, feeling my face flush brighter with the memory.

I walk quickly back to the main area of the Cistern, wanting to curl up in my bed and let sleep erase what happened, but my irritation rises higher as I find Thrynn just around the corner in the kitchen. He is mercifully alone, yet the way the ex-bandit grins knowingly at me tells me this isn't going to be a pleasant encounter.

'Well, this is... interesting.' Thrynn eyes me up and down, taking in my flushed appearance. 'So that was you screaming in Mercer's room, was it?'

'Fuck off,' I tell him, to his husky laughter.

'Gods, it was!' He makes a low whistle. 'The new bird and the Guildmaster.'

'You tell anyone and you'll have Mercer to answer to,' I say fiercely, as if Mercer would even care.

The threat works, however, as Thrynn folds his arms with a scowl. 'Fine. Doubt the others would believe me, anyway.' His scowl turns back into a grin. 'So I take it you're not opposed to warming our beds around here? Fancy getting in mine now?'

'Go fuck yourself,' I say before I walk around him and head to my bed, hearing his laughter follow me across the Cistern.

Back in my own bed, I barely sleep all night. Despite my determination to forget what happened, it proves impossible to ignore the keen ache between my legs, serving as an unavoidable reminder of what transpired in the Guildmaster's room, though I scarcely believe it. _I scarcely believe it of myself,_ I think, wondering what possessed me to let it happen, what part of me wanted it to happen.

 _I know what part of me,_ I think, feeling my cheeks flush even as I huddle in the darkness beneath the covers, and I quickly stop my thoughts there, not wanting to think about it anymore.

I curl up close to the wall and bring my knees to my chest, knowing I will not sleep, knowing I will not forget, instead simply resolving to stay as far away as I can from Mercer Frey from this moment forward. _Delvin can give me work, and with enough_ _persuasion_ _and drink,_ _just_ _maybe_ _he'll give me_ _the way to find Astrid too,_ I think, and with that settled in my mind, I realise that I have no need to be anywhere near the Guildmaster again.

_Much less naked and begging for him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was the very first chapter I wrote and since then I've read and edited and re-edited it to death (I definitely have a tendency to agonise over things too much and possibly end up making it worse) so if this reads a little laboriously in places please forgive me, it's because I can't look at the damn thing any more - if I do, I'll keep making changes and adding more and it'll end up being 10k and never actually get it posted :)
> 
> And I mean it this time (maybe...) but chapters should get more concise going forward, now all the 'firsts' are out the way... *whispers* Or maybe they'll just keep getting longer and longer, who knows what I'm doing anymore.
> 
> Thank you so much for your lovely comments on the previous chapters. I can't express how much it means to me. You guys are honestly the best. ❤
> 
> PS. Also let's say a prayer for my laptop, which died yesterday. It probably got sick of what I was writing and wanted to make a stand. Damn you laptop, you can't stop me writing this trash!


	10. Put To Task

I get up early and head above ground before anyone else is awake. Chilly dawn mists hang in the graveyard and I draw my arms around my body as I walk between the grassy mounds, looking for a clump of fresh nightshade. _It doesn't kill you when it's newly flowered,_ I suddenly hear Grelod's voice in my head, remembering her scowl when I would shy away from the smell of the bitter concoction, the weak yet vile blend of nightshade and ground raspberry leaves that would linger in my throat for hours. _It just kills the little gutter rats you'll bring into this world if you don't drink._

Trying to push the memory aside, I pluck a few sprigs of nightshade before stuffing them into a pocket and returning to the Cistern, my heart feeling tight in my chest. At Honorhall, there was normally no need for such precautions; the girls tended not to stay too long once they became women, but there were times when Grelod would need to give the older girls the tea, to prevent any more unwanted children filling the orphanage's walls.

For a moment, I try to imagine Mercer Frey as a father, and the resulting image is both so terrifying and disconcerting that I have to quickly erase it from my mind. _Like everything that happened last night,_ I think, still feeling the keen ache between my legs, wondering how I ever could have found being touched by the Guildmaster pleasurable. _I didn't,_ I tell myself firmly, hoping that if I think it enough, it'll become true and I'll manage to forget how I screamed for him.

To my relief, none of my fellow guildmembers rise from their beds and interrupt me as I brew the tea in the Cistern kitchen. As I bring the cup to my lips, the scent of the nightshade chokes me, making me suddenly think of Astrid and the night she left the flowers on my parents' corpses; I quickly force the tea down to drown the memories. It makes my tongue curl, nausea rising fast in my stomach, and for a moment I panic that I have made it too strong. I shut my eyes tight as a bitter roll of sickness passes through me before my heart rate slowly returns to normal and the feeling starts to pass, leaving me with an acrid tang in my mouth and a strange hollow feeling inside, not in my stomach, but in my heart.

 _If there's ever a reason not to go anywhere near Mercer Frey again, this is it,_ I think, as I swallow some water to try to wash away the taste. With no intention to hang around the Cistern all day and deciding a cup of wine might help the bitter taste on my tongue, I head to the Flagon, planning to wait for Delvin to make an appearance and give me something to do, preferably as far away from the Guildmaster as possible.

In the tavern, Vex makes an appearance before the old thief, to my disappointment. _Work is work, though,_ I remind myself, and I wait for her to settle down at a table in the corner with a couple of dossiers before finishing up my drink and going over to her.

'Got any work going?' I ask, standing by the table as she reads her files.

Her eyes flicker over me with the familiar icy glare she seems to reserve specially for me these days. 'Can't you bother someone else?' she says with a sigh.

I blink in surprise at her tone. 'Well, I was going to bother Delvin,' I say lightly, 'but you showed up first.'

She doesn't find it funny. 'Lucky me,' she says. 'Fine, if it'll get you out of my face.' She reaches into one of her pockets and hands me a slip of paper. 'A new store we're intending to familiarise ourselves with. Clear out the safe for me. I'll have the gold, but seeing as Bryn's not here, Mercer will want the documents himself.'

'You don't have anything else?' I ask, my stomach sinking at the thought of having to deal with Mercer.

Vex raises an eyebrow. 'Too good for this, are you?' she says sarcastically. 'If you don't like it, maybe think about another profession you're more suited to. Though I don't think you'll make much gold from whining.'

'Fine, I'll take the job,' I say, irritation starting to rise in me, bitter as the taste of nightshade, not sure why the blonde-haired thief even has a problem with me. 'Dare I ask what's my cut of the gold, or is that considered whining too?'

She scowls at my tone. 'How about I don't cut your throat for asking stupid questions?' she says. 'Go do your job and you'll get paid. Now, are we done?'

The blonde looks back down at her work and I consider myself dismissed; I leave quickly, even less inclined to hang around the Flagon or the Cistern now. _Brynjolf, Sapphire, Mercer, Vex..._ I start to wonder if I'll end up trying to avoid half the Guild.

I spend the day in the district to the north of the marketplace, lingering in streets near the store written down on Vex's scrap of paper, waiting for the proprietor to close up for the day. As I wait, I busy myself with a little shopping, where I can; with the guard patrols and the brightness of the day, there are far too many eyes and too much light for me to feel at ease, but I manage to break into a couple of houses and pocket a few necklaces and rings before dusk falls and I can turn my attentions to my actual work at hand. _Though if Vex has any say in it, I'll_ _probably_ _have made more coin off robbing these houses than what she'll pay me for her job._

From the gathering shadows of a nearby alleyway, I watch the owner lock up his store and disappear down the adjacent street. I give him a few minutes in case he returns, not intending to ever be caught having broken into a man's private property again, and then I wait a little longer, letting the shadows darken the street as I watch a couple of guards walk past in the opposite direction, before finally I pull out my lockpicks again and get to work.

Ten minutes later, my pockets weighed down with the stolen coin and a small fold of papers in my pocket, I slip out a window at the side of the store and breathe in the night air for a moment before hurrying back in the direction of the Guild, satisfaction chasing through me at how easy the job was. When I pass through the marketplace, carefully avoiding the people milling around the Bee and Barb, I suddenly think of the night I joined the Guild, that night when I first made coin from thievery. _And t_ _he night I met Brynjolf,_ I think as, not for the first time since he left, I start to wonder where he is at this moment, whether he reached Solitude safely, and if he is there, how many pockets he has picked in the city so far. _And how many times he has fucked Sapphire,_ I think, and before I can stop myself, I wonder if he does to her what Mercer did to me last night, whether the thief's silver tongue is as skilled between a woman's legs as it is at charming their hearts. Though I try to stop the thought, I wonder how it would feel to have him part my legs and kiss me there. _No wonder Sapphire moaned like that._

By the time I get back to the Guild, my stomach is tied up in jealous knots and I am in a dark mood. I intend to go to Flagon turn in Vex's job and spend the rest of the evening plying Delvin with drinks and flattery in the hope that he will let something slip about Astrid, but when I enter the Cistern, I look across to find Mercer at his desk and everything falls from my mind.

 _He didn't even have to try,_ I think furiously, recalling my body's unexpected and eager reaction to him. _Wetter than a fucking ocean._ My skin flushes with humiliation as I stand there looking at him, suddenly picturing the taut and scarred body beneath the armour, remembering the strength of his grip on my hips, the feeling of him at the back of my throat and deep inside me, even as I desperately try to force it from my mind.

Mentally cursing myself for ever going into his room last night, I start towards the door to the Flagon, deciding to give the stolen papers to Vex along with the gold and just pretend I couldn't find the Guildmaster, but I'm not even anywhere near the door when I hear his voice across the Cistern.

'Wren,' he calls. 'Over here, now.'

The sound of his voice sends another hot wave of anger through me, the command grating at me, and I wonder how I ever could've obeyed him so willingly last night. _More than obeyed,_ I remember with another rush of humiliation. _I begged._

At my hesitation, Mercer calls me over again, his tone sharper, and I realise I might as well get the inevitable over with sooner rather than later. Reluctantly I turn around and head over to his desk, folding my arms across my body, feeling like every step towards him strips me of an item of clothing, until I come to stand before him and feel as naked and flushed as I did last night.

I wait for the inevitable comments, the smug smile at his victory and my weakness, but Mercer's attention remains focused on the gold, his slender fingers stacking the coins too fast for me to count.

'What do you want?' I say eventually, every passing second making my body more on edge.

Mercer looks up finally, though I wish he hadn't. His gaze moves lazily over my body, lingering between my legs and at my breasts, as if my clothes are indeed invisible. _He knows what_ _'_ _s beneath them now,_ I remind myself, knowing that in his mind I can be as good as naked whenever he chooses. The thought that I have no say in the matter makes a strange combination of anger and unease ripple through my stomach, although I know the feeling is directed at myself just as much as it is towards Mercer. _I let him,_ I remember. _I begged for it. I wanted it._

As if he hears my thoughts, the Guildmaster smirks and turns his gaze back down to his coins. 'Did you not listen to me when I said you look better featherless?' he says mildly.

I ignore him, feeling my cheeks start to flush. 'Here.' I drop the stolen documents on a free space of his desk, resisting the urge to knock over all his stacks of coin. 'Vex said you'd want these.'

Mercer unfolds the papers, his dark eyes scanning over them briefly before he throws them to the edge of his desk. 'And the gold?' he asks.

'Vex told me to give it to her,' I answer.

'And I'm telling you to give it to me,' he says slowly, as if I am stupid.

I don't hesitate or try to argue, instead quickly pulling out the gold and leaving the bags on his desk too. _Let Vex take it up with Mercer if she's got a problem,_ I think, feeling my mood brighten marginally at the thought of the blonde thief being yelled at by the Guildmaster. _Though who knows whether I'll ever see my cut of the gold now._ I decide the coin is the least of my concerns, conscious that the primary one is staying as far away from Mercer as I can.

'Are we done, then?' I say, my voice brisk.

'Not quite, little bird.' Mercer reaches down to one of the drawers of his desk and withdraws a scrap of parchment and a sizeable coin purse. 'A letter for you, and payment.' He holds them out to me, one in each hand.

I don't take either. 'Payment for what?' I ask cautiously, afraid that taking the gold will mean acceptance of some service he expects me to perform. _A whore with half a mind,_ I think, remembering that was what Mercer thought of me when we first met.

The Guildmaster evidently knows what I'm thinking. 'It's not from me, Wren,' he says with a snort of laughter. 'Enjoyable as it was, your little cunt isn't worth this much coin. And why would I pay for what you'll give for free?' He smirks as my face flushes red. 'So how about you just read the note and find out who it's from?'

Furious, I go to take the purse and the letter, but Mercer holds back the gold.

'I just said to read it first,' he says. 'Or did I fuck you so hard last night you can't even follow simple instructions now?'

Frustration rising in me fast, I snatch the note from him and unfold it, quickly reading the three words written there. _Nelia, Mara's temple._ The hand is unfamiliar, so I know it's not a job request from Vex or Delvin, and the writing is unlike the tight scrawl I recall seeing in Mercer's documents, so I know for certain that it's not from him. I try to think who else might write to me, but only one name comes to mind.

_Astrid._

The realisation that this is my next contract sends a chill through my body, promptly chasing away the hot and furious humiliation left in me by Mercer's comments. I turn the paper over desperately, hoping for some other message, but the paper is blank save for those three words; the name and the place of a person who she wants me to kill. There is no mention of the Dunmer, though I'm sure Astrid must know I killed him as she demanded. _So why hasn't she come to find me? Or invited me to the Sanctuary?_ The thought that I murdered the dark elf and yet am still no closer to Astrid douses me in ice, as I wonder how many people I will have to kill before I get to her. _If_ _I_ _ever_ _do_ _._

I feel Mercer's gaze and I quickly screw the paper up and shove it into my pocket. 'Give me the gold,' I say shortly, wanting to leave, my mind reeling with Astrid's letter and finding myself entirely unable to deal with being in Mercer's presence too.

The Guildmaster only raises an eyebrow, my coin purse still in his hand. 'Ask nicely, little bird,' he says, a smile curling his mouth. 'I know you know how to beg.'

I glare at him, knowing that trying to grab the purse from him would be pointless, but resolved never to beg him for anything again.

'How about please?' Mercer suggests mockingly, echoing my desperate words of the previous night. 'Please, please?'

'Just give me my gold,' I snap, trying not to recall my cries of pleasure along with my pleas for him to continue.

Mercer laughs. 'Gods, you're really only fun when you're naked, aren't you?' He sighs and holds out the coin purse. 'Fly away, then.'

I reach out for the gold but before I can take it, his other hand grabs my wrist tight. The feeling of his hand on my skin sends an uncomfortable jolt to my stomach, and suddenly I wonder how I let him touch every bare inch of me.

'But don't fly far,' he says quietly. 'I've got work for you later tonight.'

I feel a shiver of unease pass down my back. 'What?' I ask warily, never having been given work directly from the Guildmaster.

'You'll find out.' Mercer lets go of my wrist and finally pushes the coin purse into my hand. 'And don't look so fucking grim. You enjoyed yourself the last time I put you to task.' He smirks as I feel my face flush with the memory, and his eyes flicker once over my body before he looks back down and starts counting coins again. 'The graveyard in an hour. If you're late, you'll have to beg a lot better than you did last night.'

I leave his desk, humiliation warming my blood. _I knew it would be like this,_ I remind myself as I put Astrid's payment in the chest under my bed and hurry towards the Flagon. _Of course he wasn't going to just pretend like last night didn't happen._ By now, I am well aware of the Guildmaster's enjoyment in my discomfort. _And I seem to play right into his hands,_ I think, but that thought leads me to thinking of Mercer's hands, and just how it felt to have them on me last night, and then suddenly my body is so torn by desire and furious hatred that I slam the Flagon door behind me hard enough to nearly bring it off its hinges.

My bad mood isn't helped when I find the Flagon crowded this evening. Being small proves an advantage as I slip mostly unharassed between the bodies and noise, dodging a badly thrown glass as a group of Argonians get in a fight over skooma, yet despite my small size it still takes a long time to make my way through the tavern and over to the far corner where Tonilia sits with her wares. Once we've handled business and I've traded my stolen jewellery for lockpicks and coin, I head to the bar and spend the remainder of the hour buying drinks for Delvin, trying to loosen up his tongue and convince him to share what he knows about Astrid. Even drunk, the old thief is not so easily manipulated. Beyond the fact that he fences for her, and that they were apparently intimately involved at one point, Delvin gives me little else, except that the last time he went to the Sanctuary to see her, the smell of the pines in the rain made him nauseous.

 _And there are thousands of fucking pine trees in Skyrim,_ I think in irritation as I realise my hour is up and I have to admit defeat. _This was just another stupid idea of mine._ I leave Delvin at the bar and reluctantly set off back towards the Cistern door, my frustration and despair rising at the thought that I may never see Astrid again, no matter how many contracts I complete or how drunk I get Delvin. I think of the note in my pocket, the next name, the next flesh and blood to tear and spill. _Will ending their life even bring me any closer to Astrid?_

Wracked with a sudden sense of hopelessness, I try my best to push aside the thought of my quest for revenge, knowing that the last thing I need tonight is for my mind to be distracted whilst in the vicinity of Mercer Frey. Not for the first time this hour, I consider refusing his command, wondering what would the worst the Guildmaster could do if I disobeyed him.

My despair regarding Astrid gets overwhelmed by an unmistakable fear when I find I cannot answer that question. _He was clear enough that he'd kill me if I broke into his room again,_ I remember, feeling my heart skip nervously just as it did last night when he made the threat, believing without a doubt that his words were genuine. _And that he'd find a more inventive way to kill me than cutting my throat._ Without further hesitation, my feet take me out of the Cistern and I hurry down the passageway towards the graveyard ladder, reassuring myself that at least now I will be on my guard to prevent a repeat of last night. _I'll just never turn my back to him and give him a chance to bind my arms,_ I promise myself as I start to climb the ladder, not letting my mind dwell on the fact that Mercer could have unchained me halfway through and I still would've begged him to continue.

 

*

 

I emerge from the tomb cautiously, looking around the graveyard for the Guildmaster. The night is murky and rainclouds hang low in the sky, casting everything into heavy darkness. My eyes still fairly slow to adjust to the dark, I stay near the tomb and look around nervously, straining my gaze to find Mercer, and eventually I make out a shadowy figure at the far edge of the graveyard, standing near to the fresher mounds. For a moment, the wild thought enters my mind that Grelod had risen from her grave and my heart stops beating for a second, my hand racing instinctively to my dagger, ready to cut her throat again.

When the shadow starts walking towards me, it soon becomes familiar, and I exhale quietly in relief to see that the figure is Mercer, not Grelod, stepping out of the darkness and coming to stand before me.

Nonetheless, I keep my hand on my dagger.

The Guildmaster notices, and through the shadows I see his amused smile. 'Don't tell me you're actually that stupid,' he says languidly. 'I thought you had at least part of a brain in that pretty little head of yours.'

Flushing with anger, I take my hand from the Blade of Justice and fold my arms. 'What are we doing?' I say, and though I try to make my tone sharp, I hear the unease creep into my voice.

'What do you think?' Mercer snorts with laughter. 'Gods, it's like you're still a bloody new recruit. I've got a job to run, obviously. Try to keep up.'

'I didn't know you even did jobs,' I mutter as he sets off through the graveyard and I hurry to follow him, glad at least that the excursion he is taking me on is related to the Guild.

Mercer laughs. 'Not very observant, are you?' he says sarcastically. 'You're lucky you're easy on the eyes. Do you think I just sit around the Flagon getting drunk all the time like the rest of you layabouts?'

I resist the urge to bite back, though I'd like to point out to him the sizeable quantity of gold I've accumulated in the chest beneath my bed, and the fact that it's a rare occasion to see more than a couple guildmembers in the Ragged Flagon at a time.

'What is this job, then?' I say instead.

'Something beyond your concern, so quit asking questions,' Mercer says, impatience clipping his tone. 'Maven doesn't trust this to anyone else in the Guild, and I'm starting to doubt whether you have the mental capacity to even understand these things, anyway.'

Again, I have to stop myself from rising to his words. 'And you couldn't do this job on your own?' I let the sarcasm cut into my voice, hoping it hides my fear about not knowing why the hell I am here with him.

'I want to see your skills in action,' he says. 'All I've heard is how good a lock pick you are. It's about time I saw for myself. Although judging by your efforts to break out of those shackles last night, I don't think I'll be impressed. Maybe you'll do better when you're not chained and dripping wet?'

I feel a flush of anger and refuse to answer, which makes Mercer laugh.

'Yeah, you're more agreeable when you don't talk,' he says. 'You open your mouth when I tell you to and tonight will go far easier on the both of us.'

I'm inclined to agree and simply not open my mouth at all. I keep my arms folded across my body and follow him in silence, and thankfully Mercer doesn't talk to me again as he leads the way to the heart of the city.

The Guildmaster walks fast and I have to hurry to keep up with his long strides. He moves through the shadows quickly, little more than a shadow himself, and I quickly realise he knows more secret ways around Riften than I ever could; we make it to the centre of the city in record time, due to a few hidden shortcuts that I know I'll never remember. Mercer heads south of the market, towards Mistveil Keep, before turning down a stone paved street into a brightly lit residential area.

The place is peaceful and still, a stark contrast to the thronging noise or eerie silence found elsewhere in Riften; no whores walk the street, nor any other sellers trying to shift their wares; instead, we pass by three guards, their steel sparkling clean in the torchlight. My feet falter slightly and my body tenses, now an instinctive reaction to the presence of the law, yet Mercer seems unconcerned as he continues down the street. I look around nervously, spotting another cluster of guards further along, and I soon understand why the neighbourhood is so heavily patrolled - fronted by ornate plaza courtyards, the houses that line the wide street are grand three-storey structures of a deep red timber, with windows paned with colourful stained glass and I realise that this is the place where Riften's rich and powerful live. _And clearly the place where I should do my shopping,_ I think, wondering how much gold I could make from robbing just one of these houses. _Or just one room._

Wondering if that is indeed Mercer's intent and feeling slightly more enthusiastic about accompanying him if that is the case, I follow him along the street before he cuts down a narrow walkway between two houses, one spilling warm rainbow lights through its windows, the other house dark and apparently empty. The path leads to the back of the houses and a series of gated gardens; as Mercer unlocks the gate leading to the unlit house, a myriad of scents work their way through the still night air to me, flowers and fruits that I did not know could grow in a place such as Riften. I breathe in eagerly, for a moment remembering a time when I did not live in a city, when my home was a little house beside a waterfall, where the roof leaked and the rain came through. From one of the gardens, I hear the soft musical tinkling of water falling from a fountain, the sound catching something in my heart for a fragile moment.

Mercer's voice brings me back to reality. 'Sometime tonight would be best,' he says sarcastically as he waits for me inside the garden. 'And shut that gate behind you.'

 _I was meant to not let myself get distracted,_ I remember, and so I do as requested and follow Mercer through the garden to the back door of the house, shaking my head to rid myself of my thoughts.

At the door, Mercer turns to me. 'Unlock it,' he orders.

Although I resent giving him the satisfaction of my obedience, I pull my lockpicks from my pocket, finding myself more than willing to prove my skills to him. I have to drop to my knees to manage the lock and I quickly realise that the design is far more complex than I anticipated. _But nothing is as hard as the one on Mercer's door,_ I remind myself, the thought steadying my hand, and after only a minute I hear the satisfying quiet click of the lock giving way.

Mercer scoffs but says nothing, which I take to mean he's not disappointed. I feel a strange thrill of triumph as he pushes open the door and I follow him into the empty dark house, resisting the urge to remind him how I unlocked his door last night too and that maybe I'm not as useless a thief as he thinks. _But we both know I was easier than the lock,_ I think, and my small victory vanishes beneath my flush of humiliation.

Inside the house, the scent of lilies and lavender lingers from the garden, interspersed with the keen spice of juniper berries and wine. The ceilings are high and even in the dark of night I can see the expensive furnishings, the exquisite fabrics, the trinkets and treasures that draw my gaze. As I follow Mercer through the hallway and up a wide grand staircase to the first floor, I start to imagine the gold I would make from stripping this place bare. _I could live off the profits for the rest of my life,_ I think longingly, hoping that I will get a cut of whatever coin Mercer will make tonight.

The Guildmaster leads the way up another flight of stairs to the top floor and at the end of the hall he pushes open the door into what appears to be a study. Bookshelves line the walls of the small room and a neatly ordered desk stands before another stained glass window. I've barely looked around the room before I hear a soft scraping sound as Mercer locates a hidden safe behind a bookshelf on the left hand side, and I realise that either he's broken in here before or Delvin was right and Mercer's instincts are far beyond what I expected.

'What are you looking for?' I ask as he pulls what appears to be a key from his pocket, although in the dim street light through the window, I can barely make out the small metal object in his hand before he turns his back to me and I hear the click of the safe unlocking.

'Leverage,' Mercer answers as he opens the safe and starts rifling through the papers and items within. 'Maven is being double-crossed in a deal with one of her business partners. Now shut the fuck up.'

I fold my arms, more than happy not to talk to him anymore. I look around the study, my eyes falling on more than one valuable object, noting the ornately bound books on the shelves and the oil painting of Lake Honrich on one of the walls. I go over to the desk and find a paperweight of what appears to be glacial crystal; when I pick it up, the faint coloured light through the window sends rainbows off the clear surface of the paperweight.

'Can I steal stuff, then?' I ask Mercer, but he ignores me, which I interpret to mean that I can't. _What the fuck am I even here for, then?_ I want to ask irritably as I put the weight back on the desk, afraid of the answer to my question.

'Son of a bitch,' Mercer mutters a few moments later. He is scanning over some papers, though how he can read them in this dim light I have no idea. 'What a stupid fucking bastard.'

I leave him to it and go over to a bookshelf, trying to read the spines. Both my eyesight and my instincts are clearly not as good as the Guildmaster's, and I hear the noise downstairs a few moments later than Mercer does. When he swears under his breath again and he goes over to lock the study door, I'm about to question him until I suddenly hear it too; footsteps far below, the creak of a door opening, faint laughter and voices.

Panic rises in me when I realise the owners of the house have returned. As I hear Mercer turn a key in the lock of the door, I hurry to the window in naive hope of escaping that way, but quickly I realise that not only is the jump is two floors high, but the panes are fixed fast and smashing them open would alert the two guards I see on the street right below.

I look back at Mercer but he doesn't seem too bothered by the fact that we might get caught breaking and entering. He returns to the safe and pulls a few more sheets of paper from inside.

'What now?' I breathe, hearing the distant creaking of footsteps on the first flight of stairs. 'What if they find us?'

Mercer snorts quietly at the fear in my voice and he closes the safe. 'You're supposedly the assassin. Don't you fancy getting your blade wet?'

'You'd really kill them?' I think for a moment, trying to calm my panic. 'But surely we can't. If Maven wanted them dead, she wouldn't have asked you to find leverage. She would've asked you to kill them.' _Or contracted one of the Brotherhood and maybe I would've had to kill them myself,_ I think.

'Clever girl.' Mercer turns around and his gaze trawls over my body, his eyes seeming darker in the dim coloured light. 'Then if not your blade, let's see if we can get something else wet.'

I glare at him, my neck suddenly hot as I realise what he's suggesting. 'You're serious?'

'We've got to do something to kill time until they go to bed and we can get the hell out of here.' He pockets the documents and his hands go to his trousers, loosening the ties there. 'You can start by getting on your knees and then we'll see what you've earned in return.'

'Fuck off, Mercer,' I hiss, folding my arms as my heart starting beating faster. 'You really think I'm going to let you touch me again?

'Let me?' Mercer laughs quietly at my words. 'Wren, we both know you were begging for it and I was generous enough to oblige you.'

'You started it,' I snap, furious at myself for ever giving in to him. I lower my voice back to a whisper, conscious of the noises below. 'You were the one that tore my clothes off me. If you don't remember, I was chained and couldn't do anything to stop you.'

'And pleading for me to keep going didn't work, did it?' Even at a murmur, the sarcasm drips from him voice. 'It's all right if you have to play the victim to get yourself off. I enjoy it well enough.' Mercer leaves the ties of his trousers half undone and steps towards me. 'You need me to get you started again? Fine, but don't expect me to make a habit of it, you've got to earn it next time.'

As his hands reach for me, I back away but find myself up against a bookshelf, the feeling of being trapped by him uncomfortably familiar. 'Next time?' I repeat. 'There isn't going to be a _this_ time, so just fuck off-'

I slap back his hands when he goes for my trousers again, the sound startling me with its loudness, and I have to fight back an equally loud gasp as Mercer grabs my wrists tight.

'If you want it rough, you know you can have it rough,' he says in a low voice, and I'm forced to remember just how rough he gave it last night. _How rough I wanted it._

'I don't want it all, you bastard,' I hiss, forcing the thought from my mind as I try to free my hands from his, but the bruises on my hips attest to the strength of his hold and I already know I'm not going anywhere.

'Oh really?' Mercer smirks. 'So if I stick my hand down your trousers right now, I won't find you hot and wet for me?'

'Trust me, you won't,' I say icily, although at his words I suddenly recall just how hot my body burned for him and how the efforts of his quick relentless tongue at my core left me wet and longing for him. I try to crush it down but the memory flushes me with heat once more, though I can barely tell if it is humiliation or desire that warms my body.

Mercer's snort of laughter tells me what he thinks of my words. 'Lets see, shall we?'

Swiftly he brings both my hands up above my head and against the bookshelf, pinning my wrists there easily with one strong hand while his other hand goes down to my trousers.

'I don't really care what you think you want.' His fingers rip loose the ties of my trousers. 'I _know_ what you want, little bird, whether you like it or not. If I don't find you wet I'll step down from the Guild and become a priest at the fucking Temple of Mara.'

'You-' I start, but before I can even form an insult or Mercer's hand can find its way beneath the material, I hear a faint moan from the room directly under us and I realise the creaking floorboards have turned into what I can only assume is a creaking bed frame. Warmth rises in my cheeks as I distantly hear their pleasure, even though I know I have little reason to feel embarrassed, considering Mercer has heard me making far more noise than what I can hear from the room below.

Mercer laughs softly. 'I'll make you come before they do,' he says as his hand pulls the material of my trousers away from my skin. 'And as hard as you did the last time.'

In that moment, I know I can't let him touch me, I can't let him win, I can't let him find out that he is right and my body wants him in spite of my determination never to be touched by him again. I struggle to get out of his hold, but Mercer's arm is like steel and his grip around my wrists unyielding, so I do what I can and pull up one of my knees to my thigh, stopping his hand from getting between my legs.

'Please-' I try, but he shoves my leg back easily, my limbs weakening as quickly as my resolve.

'Shh, you don't have to beg yet, little bird,' he says softly, leaning closer to me. 'I'm going to make you come regardless. You want that, don't you?'

Before I can even think of a reply, his hand slips down beneath my trousers and smallclothes. My breath catches sharply at the same moment Mercer exhales a smug laugh.

'Look who was right,' he murmurs, his fingers slick as they explore me for the second time. 'At least your pretty little cunt knows what's good for it.'

'Enough,' I hiss, trying to free my hands so I could push him away, trying to ignore the fact that my body grows hotter with his touch and the way my hips seem to rise to meet his hand.

'Enough?' He inclines his head as his fingers slowly start circling my clit, the sore ache between my legs from his brutal efforts last night turning quickly into pleasure. His gaze burns into mine as I desperately try not to react, even as my legs instinctively part a little to accommodate his hand. 'Are you sure about that? You never want me to do this again?'

Knowing I cannot argue my body's response to him, all I can do is struggle to get my arms out of his hold. At my feeble attempt to get away, Mercer tightens his grip at my wrists above my head and his slow touch between my legs abruptly grows harsher, his fingers making hard fast strokes over my clit, and I have to quickly bite back a gasp of pleasure at the increased pressure.

'I told you we can play rough, but somehow I don't think you'll be able to keep quiet if we do,' Mercer says, watching me with amusement, not relenting in his touch. 'Now answer me. You don't want me to do this again?'

'No, I don't-' I start, but a quiet hitched moan escapes me before the words fully leave my mouth and fierce pleasure courses deep through my lower stomach. Between my legs I feel his fingers slide wet in my desire.

Mercer makes a satisfied laugh in his throat. 'That didn't take long, did it? Now shut that mouth of yours and be quiet.'

He releases his hold on my wrists above my head and pulls my trousers and smallclothes halfway down my thighs to let his fingers move unrestricted. The material bunches over the Blade of Justice strapped to my thigh and I remember distantly that I had intended to use it against the Guildmaster to prevent a repeat of last night. Now free from his hold, I put my hands on his chest, thinking to push him away, to stop him, to stop this, but my hands only clutch uselessly at the pockets of his armour as his fingers continue to work me roughly, my wrists aching from his hold and pleasure swiftly building in me before I can fully comprehend it.

Somewhere in my mind I wonder why the hell I am letting this happen again, but the thought disappears, or I push it aside, or in that moment I just don't care. One of my hands goes to Mercer's arm, feeling the muscles working there as his fingers move skilfully between my legs. My grip tightens on his forearm, holding him in place as my hips press forward against his hand, wanting to feel more, wanting it harder in every sense.

'You're lucky you're a good tight fuck else I'd never put up with you being so damn needy,' Mercer mutters, as his free hand reaches behind me and grabs my ass, pulling me forward hard as his fingers push just as hard against me.

The pressure makes my body thrum with pleasure and my hips rock violently with the motion of his fingers, another fractured moan soon escaping me before I remember I'm supposed to be quiet.

I hear Mercer swear under his breath before he crowds me against the bookshelf, shoving his shoulder against my mouth, one of the buckles of his armour scraping my cheek. 'Bite down,' he says. 'You make any more noise and you'll regret it.'

My mouth opens and I bite obediently at his shoulder, wetting the material of his jacket with my saliva as I try to contain my moans. My mouth fills with the taste of leather and the bitter tang of metal; the buckle is ice cold against the heat of my tongue.

'Now come for me,' Mercer says in my ear. 'You know you want to.'

His fingers make the same demand and I can't help myself from obeying; a few moments later I bite down deep as the pleasure crashes over me abruptly in waves that I ride out hard and wet against his hand, the feeling quicker and fiercer than last night. I gasp into his shoulder as my thighs tighten to try to hold on to the feeling, to make it last longer, until all the tension suddenly leaves my muscles and I can only clutch weakly at Mercer's body to keep myself upright.

'Aren't you so desperate to finish,' Mercer mutters with a laugh as I try to catch my breath. 'Such an impatient wet little bird.'

He takes his hand from me, wiping his fingers on my smallclothes before putting both his hands on my shoulders. 'On your knees,' he says. 'This'll keep that mouth of yours quiet.'

My body dazed and limp from the release, I drop to my knees before him, and when he pushes down his trousers I open my mouth obediently for his cock, relieved that at least this time I have my hands free.

It doesn't make much difference. Both his hands knot tight in my hair and he jerks my head forward until I feel his width filling my throat. He holds himself there for a few moments as once again my reflexes try to resist; my breathing still not recovered, I feel my pulse thudding desperately as I struggle for air through my nose, my throat gagging at the pressure. Mercer starts moving my head back and forth, my lips sliding along his length, before he suddenly pushes himself deeper at the same time as he jerks me towards him sharply. Before I can get used to it, he repeats the motion, and again; my mouth full of him, I barely hear my stifled whine of discomfort.

I grasp weakly at his hips and I try to suck down on his cock like before, wanting to bring him to his pleasure quickly, but the rough pace at which he moves my head to build his satisfaction starts to hurt and I can only concentrate on keeping my neck relaxed to ease the discomfort as Mercer fucks the back of my throat hard.

After a while, one of his hands leaves my hair to hold one of the bookshelves behind me, yet his grip on my head and the rhythm at which he moves me is no less merciless. He keeps his pace for longer than I think I can bear, until finally both his hands grab rough fistfuls of my hair again and he jerks my head faster and faster until above me I hear his breath catch.

He comes into my mouth, pulling himself back a little so he finishes over my tongue rather than deep down my throat. I choke as my mouth fills with his pleasure, but Mercer grips my head in place until I have swallowed every bit of him down, my tongue lapping at his cock as I try to stop his seed from spilling out of my mouth.

'Maybe I'll keep you under my desk from now on,' the Guildmaster murmurs with a quiet laugh when he's finished, holding me there for a while longer before he pulls himself wetly from my mouth and steps back. He looks down at me as he sets about pulling up his trousers, amusement in his dark eyes. 'You can stand up now, Wren. I'm done with you.'

A furious blush stalks up my neck and I force myself to my feet quickly, suddenly wondering what the hell I am even doing on my knees before the Guildmaster. As I refasten my own trousers with unsteady hands, my fingers brush against the Blade of Justice at my thigh and anger mounts in me abruptly, twice as fast as the pleasure _. I wasn't chained, and I had my dagger right here,_ I think, realising that instead of clutching at his hips while he took his pleasure in my throat, I could've reached for my dagger and cut off his cock. _Rather than wanting to suck down on it._

As Mercer conceals the safe behind the bookshelf once again, it hits me that I could have stopped it, or at least tried to stop it, or at least made a stronger show of acting like I wanted to stop it.

_But I didn't._

Suddenly more afraid of myself than Mercer, I draw my arms close around me and keep my distance from the Guildmaster as he walks to the study door. The gentle whine of the hinges into the silence makes me realise that I can no longer hear anything from below, no voices, no laughter, no rhythmic creak of the bed.

 _Did they finish before me, or was Mercer good to his word?_ I wonder as he disappears out into the hallway without a word. I force the thought from my mind, and force myself to follow him.

The house is silent, though warm candlelight still flickers from downstairs. I hesitate at the top of the staircase, fearing that the owners are still awake, but Mercer seems unconcerned and I soon decide that if I get caught, I'll at least have the satisfaction of seeing Mercer clapped in shackles too.

I never get that satisfaction, and a minute later we step back out into the gardens once more, the night air pressing in close and heavy with the threat of a storm. As Mercer strides ahead, I slow my pace and breathe in the fresh scents of the gardens while I listen to the fountain, wanting to sip the splashing water, my mouth still tasting of Mercer and the remnants of nightshade tea. _And I'm never tasting either again,_ I think as I leave the garden and follow the Guildmaster back through the city in the direction of the marketplace. _Once was bad enough, twice is just stupid._ I decide I will never find out about a third time.

We're almost in sight of the Bee and Barb when Mercer stops halfway down a shadowy alley and turns to look at me. Even in the darkness I see the derisive smile at his mouth as his gaze flickers over my body. Immediately on edge, I steel myself and prepare to reach for my dagger, thinking that this time I will do anything to prevent him coming anywhere near me and my weak-willed body, but the Guildmaster only smirks and points down the alley.

'Be a good girl and run back to the Guild,' he says. 'I need to finish the job and I doubt Maven has much patience for needy little sluts like you.'

My cheeks burn with humiliation and I suddenly wonder why I am even still following him around. 'Fuck you,' I say viciously, but Mercer only laughs.

'No, you'll be the one getting fucked later, if you're lucky,' he tells me. 'I won't be too long, so try to have some restraint til I get back to the Cistern.'

'I don't think so,' I snap. 'You're never touching me again.'

I turn sharply and walk away in the direction of the marketplace, hearing the Guildmaster laugh behind me. 'We'll see about that, little bird,' I hear him say, his voice low and amused, his words sending a chill through me even through my hot anger.

I cut through the market square, the place crowded with the tavern's usual nightly overspill of patrons. I nearly walk into a group of drunken men before I force my mind to think clearly; before they can even say a word, I dart away and find the shadows of a nearby alley. I head in the direction of the graveyard with my heart uneasy and my hand on my dagger, starting to doubt my ability to protect myself from Riften's streets at night if my defences are so easily overcome by one strong hand at my wrists.

Hearing raised voices somewhere ahead a short while later, I double back and take another alley, wondering what Mercer would do if I misstepped tonight and never returned to the Guild. _If it were Brynjolf, he would've walked me_ _back_ _to the Cistern,_ I think suddenly, knowing the redhead wouldn't have left me to mercy of Riften at night. _But if it were Brynjolf..._ I shut the thought down fast, not wanting my mind to go down that path, the fury and unease in my stomach from earlier starting to twist into nervous knots.

As I near the graveyard, Mercer's words echo in my head and I find my feet slowing, reluctant to be in the Cistern when he returns from his business with Maven, fearing that my body will betray me once more, though I am well aware that my humiliation and regret lingers longer than whatever pleasure he gives me. _I'd prefer to leave the Guild right now rather than be on my knees before him_ _again_ _, or any man like him._

In that moment, I decide that that is exactly what I will do. _At least, until my body_ _forgets his touch and I can pretend these two days never happened._

 _And besides,_ I remind myself, my hand still resting lightly on the Blade of Justice at my thigh, _I_ _have business elsewhere in the city._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8.6k... yeah okay. So much for shorter chapters. I'm never going to make that promise again. I should just accept that this is probably the way things are going to be, though it means I get fewer chapters out and they take so much longer to write and edit and *sighs*
> 
> Fun fact: writing this chapter, I found a word I didn't know before. 'Amercement'. It's a synonym for punishment. Oh gods how perfect is that ;)


	11. Oblivion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who has read, given kudos and commented on this story. I am so grateful and I appreciate it far, far more than I can ever say. Thank you ❤

Quietly, not wanting to disturb the sleeping thief, I leave a note beside Rune's bed, explaining that I'm working a job and won't be around the Guild much for a few days but I'll be back soon. As I go to leave his bed, I get the sudden urge to linger, to curl up beneath the sheets with him and sleep a while there, and for a brief moment I imagine myself wrapped in his arms and held against his chest. _I could tell him everything and he'd probably still want to help me,_ I think, certain that Rune would try his best to make me feel better, to make me feel safe. _Like letting me win our daggerplay so I can fool myself_ _that_ _I am strong_. As I watch the steady rise and fall of his shoulders, my stomach feels hollow when I realise that I can't keep fooling myself, and whether I want to believe them or not, I do not deserve the thief's kind lies, not when I am on my way to commit murder for the fourth time. _And with no guarantee that_ _taking their life_ _is justified_ _or_ _whether_ _it_ _will_ _bring me any closer_ _to_ _the woman whose life I actually want to take_ _._

My heart cold, I return to my own bed and quickly pack my things, remembering the last time I stuffed spare clothes into my satchel, reliving how my heart raced as I pushed open Grelod's door, how it felt to cut a throat for the first time, how the blood flooded over the bed and dripped onto the floorboards. _Did they ever get the stains out?_ I wonder, as my gaze falls upon the carving knife at the very bottom of my chest, where it has been hidden since I joined the Guild. Something constricts in my stomach at the sight of the knife and I am struck by how large and unwieldy it now appears, barely able to imagine how tightly I gripped it that night and how desperately I brought it down on the old woman's neck. _Maybe I didn't,_ I think, looking at the clean blunt blade, remembering how fervently I wiped the blood away all those weeks ago, suddenly wishing I could do the same to my memories.

A cold shiver passes down my back and I slam the chest shut, before slinging my satchel over my shoulder and leaving the Cistern.

I stay away from the Guild entirely. I sink gold on a room at a run-down little tavern called the God's Tap, though the establishment's patrons are distinctly ungodly in the amount of ale they enjoy at every hour of the day. Their insobriety and lack of awareness, coupled with the tavern's location in the district just north of the Temple of Mara, makes it an ideal place for me to stay unseen and unharassed as I steel myself to undertake my contract.

The Rift's early autumn storms have hit the city, and when I venture out to the temple a few days after I leave the Cistern, thunder clouds hang unbroken and low in the dark morning sky and the air is heavy in anticipation of another storm. As I approach the large wooden building set back from the street, I conceal my dagger in my satchel, conscious that walking armed into a holy place might arouse suspicion - but I soon start to wonder if having my blade to hand might be wiser. From the unkempt and cracked courtyard outside and the coarse weeds growing up the chipped marble statues either side of the door, the Temple of Mara looks to all intents and purposes to be abandoned, and I know well enough by now that rats aren't the only creatures drawn to Riften's derelict places.

_Then the Blade will taste more blood than I planned,_ I think resolutely, one hand on my satchel and ready to retrieve my dagger as I climb the steep steps and push open the door to the temple.

Inside, dozens of candles illuminate the large high-ceilinged room, setting a warm dancing light over the rows of wooden pews that face a large raised altar at the far end. As I look around, I breathe in lavender and mountain flowers and some sweet green scent I do not know, but the flora growing in the wooden planters appears to be the only living thing in the room; the place is deserted, though faintly I hear a soft murmur of voices, seemingly coming from behind one of the doors that lead off from the chamber.

My feet hesitate, the calm and tranquillity of the temple conversely setting my heart beating rapidly with unease, but I force myself forward to the first door on the left. It is unlocked and I find myself in a small room filled with an assortment of objects laid out on tables; my nerves disappear as my eyes race eagerly around the room, taking in several coin purses, stacks of books and what appear to be spell tomes, along with a collection of other trinkets that must have been offered to the temple. _To Mara,_ I correct myself, wondering briefly if I am really considering stealing from a god; it doesn't take much deliberation before I start swiftly towards the plumpest of the coin purses, my spirits lightening a little with what might be the easiest theft I've ever made, wondering just how stupid the priests must be to leave all their doors unlocked in this city.

Before I can reach my hand out to take the purse, I hear footsteps echo softly from the main chamber, and as I draw back hastily from the offerings, a deep female voice comes from behind me.

'Are you here for Mara's blessing, child?'

I whirl around and find two women in worn patched robes standing in the doorway, one a tall navy-skinned Dunmer with dark eyes and dark hair, and the other an Imperial, younger and spindly of limb, lingering just behind the dark elf. My heart skips when I realise one of them might be Nelia. _But which?_

'I am,' I lie, hoping they didn't see where my hands had been going. I rush to sound apologetic. 'I'm sorry, I didn't see anyone and I wasn't sure where to go.'

The dark elf smiles kindly. 'There is no need to apologise,' she says. 'Mara bids you welcome. As do we. Step forward and I will confer the Lady's blessing.'

I obey and she meets me halfway before outreaching her hand to touch my head. I look down and close my eyes, trying not to remember the last time someone touched my head. _More like grabbed handfuls of my hair as he came in my mouth._

'May Mara's light guide you,' the Dunmer murmurs as my skin flushes with my memories. 'May her honour protect you, and her love warm you.'

She steps back and I do the same, forcing my mouth into a smile.

'Thank you...' I trail off expectantly, waiting for her to give me her name, waiting to know if the Blade will soon have its second taste of Dunmer blood.

'Dinya,' the older woman says. 'And you are most welcome. Mara's temple has seen little in the way of visitors lately and I am only too glad to share the Lady's word.'

I don't tell her that my visit to the temple is not to discuss love or the gods but to find the person I must murder. _And it's not this dark elf priestess._ 'Don't many people come here?' I say, as if I scarcely believe it, as if I haven't spent long enough in Riften to know that its citizens need only walk down the right alley to find on offer a variety of pursuits more pleasurable than praying.

'In times of darkness, people often turn away from the light further.' Dinya's deep black eyes hold mine and suddenly my heart skips nervously. 'Sometimes,' the priestess murmurs, 'the shadows grow so familiar that we become afraid of what the light might show.'

I force myself to ignore the uncomfortable flicker of unease that passes through me at her words. 'I'm not afraid of the light,' I say, although I taste the lie in my mouth. 'I know the shadows are dangerous.'

'So the Divines instil in us at our births, when they first bring us into the light,' Dinya says. 'Yet some of us choose to return to the darkness, and at times it can seem more comforting than a mother's protection, a friend's devotion, or a lover's embrace.' She smiles again, her serious expression softening. 'I hope you find whatever comfort you seek here, child. I must attend to my duties, but I'm sure my apprentice would be glad to pray with you.' Dinya gestures to the young Imperial woman behind her. 'Nelia, please sit a while with our visitor, if she wishes it.'

The Imperial named Nelia nods as my stomach tightens abruptly. 'I would be happy to,' she says, her voice sweet and faint. She looks at me with eyes like the grey sky outside, threatening to break with rain. 'Would you like to pray?'

I nod, not trusting myself with words.

Dinya bids me farewell before leaving me alone in the main chamber with her apprentice. I sit beside Nelia on one of the wooden pews and the apprentice bows her head over her clasped hands; she starts to murmur words I cannot quite make out and I try to keep my heartbeat steady, wondering if I should draw the Blade of Justice and finish this now.

_And_ _when_ _the Dunmer priestess_ _finds the bloody mess, she'll_ _tell the guards all about the short young woman with hair the colour of a baby bird's wing_ , I think, knowing how stupid it would be to kill the apprentice here, in the warm glowing light of the temple, with my face and my dagger unconcealed by darkness. I remember Dinya's words. _Her lies,_ I remind myself. _The shadows are where I am safest._

I close my eyes and I pray, but not for redemption or love or light. The gods answer the request I make of them; the apprentice soon excuses herself quietly with a smile and follows Dinya into another room of the temple, graciously giving me more than enough opportunity to slip back into the offerings chamber, where I stuff a small silver statue, a leather bound book and one fat coin purse into my satchel before pulling up my hood and leaving the Temple of Mara.

My conscience prickles uncomfortably until I am out of sight of the building and on my way towards the canals; not wanting to go back to the Flagon to trade, I take the stolen items to Grinner, a wide-mouthed old Breton who moves things out of the city for the Guild when he's not drowning himself in mead or choked up on skooma. This early in the day, Grinner is mostly coherent when I find him in his little dead-end alley near the steps down into the northern canal walkways; at first Grinner mistakes me for Sapphire and calls me his little gem, but the misconception seems to work to my benefit as he gives me more than a fair amount of gold in exchange for the silver statuette. He has no interest in the book, however, and so I slip it back into my satchel, deciding to sell it to Tonilia when I return to the Guild.

The thought of the Guild makes my heart twist with a strange feeling of longing and unease; although missing my bed and the familiar sound of the rushing waters, I am painfully aware of the reason I left. _Once was a mistake, twice was pure stupidity,_ I remind myself, my resolve never to go near Mercer Frey again even stronger now after a few nights away from the Guild and its Guildmaster.

A distant rumble of thunder cuts into my thoughts. I look up to find the morning sky darkening to a deeper grey and I hurry in the direction of the God's Tap, intending to wait until dusk before returning to the Temple of Mara to follow the young apprentice home. _And this time I won't delay and deliberate over whether it is right or wrong,_ I think, suddenly remembering the priestess' words and how she looked at me with her deep dark eyes, as if she saw some part of me I didn't want to be seen. _Whether I want it or not, t_ _he_ _light will not help me now._

Despite my determination, I do not return to the temple that night. I'm a few streets away from the tavern when the clouds finally break with a deafening roll of thunder and rain starts to lash down hard. By the time I arrive at the God's Tap, I am shivering and drenched through to the skin, and the last thing on my mind is venturing back out into the storm to follow the Imperial woman. Rain continues to thunder down relentlessly throughout the day; when night falls and muddy water from the flooded streets starts seeping through the tavern's front door, I retreat to my little room in the eaves and curl up on my bed, clutching the Blade of Justice close to me, the noise of crashing rain above me soon lulling me into an uneasy sleep.

By the following evening, the flooding subsides and the rain lessens to a light drizzle. I strap my dagger to my thigh and pull up my hood before stepping out in the chilly wet dusk of Riften's streets.

Unlike my first contract, it's not difficult to find evidence of the young apprentice's indecency. Though I linger for hours in the darkness and spitting rain, I see no sign of her the first night, but when I return at twilight the next evening, the air hazy and damp with the threat of another downpour, my heart jumps at the sight of the slender Imperial woman leaving the Temple of Mara. I hurry to follow her as she walks quickly through darkening alleys that wind wide and far from the city centre, my nerves heightening with every passing minute until finally the robed figure ahead of me descends into the southern canals and I realise Nelia is walking into one the roughest areas in Riften.

_The dark brings out more than just thieves down there._ My stomach twists uncomfortably as I hear Brynjolf's voice in my head, warning me and Sapphire away from the canals. _He was right,_ I think, remembering how Astrid kidnapped me down here. Beneath my fear, I'm conscious of my sudden desire for Astrid to press the poisoned rag to my face again, for her to take me somewhere alone, for her to stand not five feet from me and hand me a dagger. _This time,_ _I would_ _n't_ _hesitate to_ _bury_ _the Blade of Justice_ _inside her,_ I think, not for the first time wishing that I had done it when I had the chance.

My heart beating fast, I keep as close to Nelia as I can and draw my blade quietly, not to end her life but to protect my own. Traversing the canals proves riskier than normal, with parts of the walkways ankle-deep in water from the storms and others completely submerged and impassable. The mists that rise hazy and thick above the water impair my vision and I hurry to keep close to the apprentice, not wanting to lose sight of her or make a wrong step into the cold dark waters. The flooding, however, seems to have driven away much of the normal trade - we pass by only a handful of people, all too intoxicated or otherwise engaged to give much notice to either the skinny robed Imperial or the small hooded woman behind her. Despite encountering no trouble, I feel goosebumps rise on my skin as we walk deeper into the maze of the canals, unease crawling down my back with the sensation of being watched from the shadows.

Ahead, Nelia disappears into a small warehouse and I hasten to follow, my feet slipping on the wooden walkways as I come to stand at the entrance to the building, the doors hanging off their hinges and a hazy violet-tinged light coming from within. When the scent and smoke reaches me, I realise with a jolt where the apprentice has led me. _And_ _it's a crude skooma den, at that,_ I think, well aware that many hideouts in Riften are near enough reputable establishments in their own right, with guards and opening hours and protocols - and the help of the Guild or other investors to keep business running smoothly. As I scan the warehouse interior from the shadows, I see no guards, nor any elaborate apparatus, nor indeed any sort of suggestion that this place anything more than an abandoned hovel appropriated by those wanting to feed their desire somewhere hidden and without interruption. Lit by a number of small fires either in metal buckets or built straight onto the ground, the warehouse is littered with piles of odd discarded junk and broken furniture. _And broken people,_ I think, watching as the robed apprentice picks her way between the dozen or so shadowy figures slumped around the fires, as if the people she passes are no more animate than the piles of rubbish. They ignore her in return; some of the den's patrons are awake and breathing in the violet smoke as they heat crystals over the flames, while others are unconscious and closed-eyed, and then there are a few who gaze into the shadows, and although their eyes are open, it is as if they too are unconscious and unseeing.

_It's not a business,_ I realise as I stand at the threshold. _It's a_ _shelter_ _where people can hide,_ _from everyone, from the light, from themselves_ _. It's a sanctuary._

My heart uneasy, I take a deep breath before I step inside.

At the far aide of the warehouse, the apprentice approaches a Khajiit wearing tattered rags, his pitch black fur cast in a violet glow from the jar of purple magelight in front of him. I notice his wares in a chest beside him. _Maybe_ _some_ _business_ _is conducted here,_ _after all,_ I think, watching as Nelia hands over gold and the cat hands over a small drawstring purse; the apprentice slips it into a pocket of her robes and crosses the warehouse to a ladder leading up to the upper floor.

Keeping my dagger drawn, I follow. No one stops me or questions my intentions as I walk through the warehouse and follow the apprentice up the ladder, my fingers catching on the splintering wooden rungs, gripping tight to the Blade of Justice as I climb.

The upper floor of the warehouse is divided into small rooms, and I'm just close enough behind Nelia to see her push open a door at the far end and disappear into the room within. I linger outside for several long minutes, knowing the apprentice's intentions and wondering if it would be wiser waiting for her to take whatever she purchased from the Khajiit and to fall unconscious before I enter and cut her throat. I stand for a while, my nerves heightening with every minute until the sense of unease becomes too much to bear and I realise how desperately I want to leave this place. I take a slow deep breath to steady my heart, before I push open the door and step inside.

The room is small and empty, save for a nest of filthy rags in the corner, seemingly made into a makeshift bed by the previous occupant. Like the rest of the windowless den, the air bears the residue of skooma and smoke. Nelia sits with her back against the wall, the drawstring purse empty beside her, one hand holding a small metal dish filled with violet and black crystals, while magical fire flickers from the palm of her other hand, heating the contents of the dish from underneath.

She doesn't look up as I close the door behind me. Her gaze remains on the fire and the dish, as the crystallised skooma within begins to smoulder and the heady scent starts to fill the room afresh.

'The shadows are dangerous,' Nelia murmurs. 'I knew it was you. I knew you would come.'

I have only taken a step towards her when I pause, caught off-guard. 'You were expecting me?' I say, my fingers tightening around the Blade's handle, ready to strike if she screams out for help, though I doubt anyone in this place would hear or care.

'Do you know what I prayed for, when you came to the temple?' she says, not answering my question, her attention on heating the little purplish crystals in the dish above the flames. 'What I always pray for?' She breathes in the first tendrils of violet smoke. 'For this. For oblivion.' Nelia closes her eyes and holds her breath before exhaling slowly with a sigh of pleasure. 'For forgetting,' she whispers, so quietly I can barely hear. 'For peace.'

I feel something cold twist tightly in my stomach at her words, although I cannot tell if it is fear or something else that sends the uncomfortable chill through me. 'Then be glad I am here,' I say softly.

'I am,' Nelia replies. The crystals emit a plume of thick smoke and the apprentice leans forward, inhaling deep and long, taking in more breath than I think her lungs can accommodate before she finally exhales slowly, her slim shoulders slumping. 'I am,' she whispers as she sighs again in relief.

I feel my head starting to swim and I step forward, trying not to let the fumes cloud my mind as I approach the apprentice.

'I know what you prayed for,' Nelia says.

I hesitate to engage, wondering if it is only a ploy to distract me in order to turn the flames in her hand onto me, but as I bring the Blade of Justice to the side of her neck, she turns to look up at me and I see no fear in her large grey eyes, nor surprise; there is only relief. _And her eyes are black, not grey,_ I think, noticing the dilation of her pupils. _Black as Dinya's. Like she's seeing_ _me, all of me_ _._

'I prayed for you to leave so I could steal the temple's offerings,' I tell her honestly.

A small smile curves her mouth but Nelia says nothing as she looks back at the dish, making the fire burn brighter from her palm. 'When I first joined the temple, I thought it would be my sanctuary,' she says as the crystals smoulder violently. 'But I can't escape.'

She inhales deeply, her intake of breath drawing the purple haze inside her, but the remnants rise through the air to me as I stand beside the apprentice and I taste the smoke on my tongue. _Don't breathe it in,_ I tell myself, trying to hold my breath, even as my mind seems to blur at the edges.

Nelia's large eyes flicker up to me and I wonder if she even realises my dagger is still at her throat. 'Mara says the light of our love can save even the darkest of souls. Do you think that's true? Do you think it can save my soul? Your soul?'

Her question sends a shiver down my back and my mind struggles to come up with an answer, the sight of her large dark eyes as invasive as the violet smoke that starts to fill my lungs. My fingers tighten around my dagger and I am about to draw the Blade of Justice across her neck when the truth hits me. _Anything I tell her will die with her._

'Maybe it can save some people,' I answer, lowering the dagger. 'But I don't intend to find out. A long time ago, someone killed the people I loved the most. I'd rather live in darkness than risk that happening again.' My voice falters as I suddenly and inexplicably feel tears choke my throat. 'I can't let that happen again,' I tell her.

'Neither can I,' Neila says softly, and she looks back down, a small smile at her mouth before she breathes in the last of the thick purple smoke.

The crystals turn to ash. The apprentice sighs long and deep before she lets the fire in her hand flicker out and she drops the dish on the ground. The darkness swarms the room, but for once my eyes are quick to adjust. Although the fire is extinguished and the only source of light gone, the room seems brighter to me, more colourful, the empty blackness of the shadows instead now tinged a clear violet. Knowing it is an illusion borne of the skooma, I blink quickly to try to disperse my skewed vision.

'The shadows are dangerous,' Nelia murmurs. 'You were right. But I'm not afraid. Once you know the darkness, there is nothing else to fear, except the light. Have this.' Suddenly she reaches into a pocket of her robes and presses a small glass bottle into my hand. 'A little love for you. It won't hurt, I promise. It might be the only thing that doesn't.'

'I don't-' I start, but Nelia slumps back against the wall and her eyes close before I can utter another word. Her head lolls to the side and she falls into a deep sleep.

I stand motionless for a long while, the erratic beating of my heart at odds with the slow steady rise and fall of the apprentice's bony shoulders. I look down at the small glass bottle; the contents unknown to me, I tilt the half-empty vial to the side and the dark violet substance runs like syrup. _A kind of liquid skooma, maybe, or something like it,_ I think as I clutch the dagger in one hand and the vial in the other, wondering which oblivion to give her.

_I could leave her here and she'd probably wind up dead eventually,_ I realise, knowing well enough that the crystals and the vials are the least of the dangers in places like these. _Any one of the people below might do my job for me, if the idea came into their addled minds._

Suddenly, I know I cannot leave her to the mercy of another's hands and an unknown brutality. I put the vial in my pocket and push back my hood before I drop to my knees and gently move Nelia's fragile body so that her head rests on my lap. I hold her there for a while, hearing her steady breathing, wondering what she is dreaming of, or whether she is simply thinking of nothing at all. _For her sake and mine, I hope it's nothing,_ I think, not wishing a nightmare on her and unable to bear the thought that I might be about to end a good dream.

In one quick deep motion, I draw the Blade of Justice from ear to ear and cut her throat wide. The blood flows hot over my hands, bathing the dagger and my lap in a deep dark red. The apprentice doesn't struggle or splutter. I watch and try to slow my breath to match hers as the life leaves her.

Eventually, I hear rain start to fall lightly on the roof of the warehouse.

'This one isn't yours, Sithis,' I murmur. 'Leave her in peace.'

I put the Blade of Justice on the floor beside me before gently moving the limp body off my lap and laying her down.

I don't know how long I sit beside her body, not wanting to leave her to rot in this place but knowing I don't have the strength to carry her out of the warehouse, much less to the graveyard where I could bury her. _S_ _he shouldn't be stuck in the dirt next to Grelod, anyway,_ I think before suddenly I wonder whether the Dunmer merchant was buried or if he was cremated, and if the fair-haired woman has rotted into the floorboards of the shack where Astrid demanded I kill her, and what will happen to Nelia's body in the days and weeks after I leave her here.

I shut my eyes and take a deep breath, my thoughts running fast and fierce through my mind, not wanting to dwell upon any of them. The smell of the skooma hangs heavy in the air and my lungs fill with the remnants of the smoke, and my thoughts only grow faster and fiercer, until I get the desperate and intense urge not to think about anything at all.

By some instinct I cannot comprehend, my fingers slip into my pocket and retrieve the small glass bottle Nelia pushed into my hand. I open my eyes as I remove the lid, blinking to clear my vision, though the room is still appears tinted a bright violet.

The liquid glows a bright bluish purple and it carries the scent of skooma yet somehow sweeter, like the sap of a flowering tree. Before I can wonder what it is or question my intention, I bring the vial to my lips and tip the substance down my throat.

It tastes sweet and floral, with a sharp tangy edge that lingers on my tongue for a few moments after I swallow. The liquid slips down thick like honey, at once warming and chilling me; goosebumps rise on my skin as heat warms my stomach.

For a while, I sit beside the apprentice's body and wait for something else to happen, to feel something, to feel anything. As I wait, my mind seems to move slower, though I hear every murmur and cough and breath from downstairs as if they are happening right beside me. I listen to the rain crashing on the roof above, the sound lulling my eyelids shut and my limbs heavy before I even realise it. _It's like_ _I'm back_ _home,_ my mind tells me vaguely, but in that moment, I am not sure whether home is the little house by the waterfall or the cavern beneath the graveyard or if it is right here. Before I can decide, the thought slips from my mind and I let it go.

I wait, eyes closed, but what feels like hours pass from the moment I swallowed the sap-like substance and still nothing happens.

_Nothing,_ I realise, suddenly aware that I feel nothing, remember nothing, fear nothing. _It's all nothing._

Then my consciousness falters and my mind drifts. _Into oblivion,_ I think, before I slump back against the wall, the pool of blood ebbing slowly between the apprentice's body and my own.

 

*

 

A violent shiver passes through me. I hear gruff laughter, a spluttering cough, and the crackle of a fire.

'She don't like you much,' someone says, a low male voice racked with wheezy breaths.

My consciousness fades and distantly I hear a quiet hiss of pleasure, the sound of air sucked sharply between fangs.

'I had a maid like her once,' a rasping voice says, closer to me than the other one. 'Pretty little thing. She would've married me if I asked her.'

'Why didn't you?' the other asks.

'Because she was a whore, and you don't marry whores.'

My mind slips again as I try to understand.

The deep hitched breaths start to lull me to sleep, the heady fumes filling my lungs and calling me back to my oblivion once more, until another convulsion overtakes me and I suddenly become aware of my body. _This isn't_ _oblivion,_ I think vaguely, feeling a hard unyielding floor beneath me as I lie on my side, something wet warming my cheek where my face presses against the rough wooden floorboards. Then I feel a hand stroking my lower leg.

The deep breathing fades until the sounds of the fire crackling and a faint sigh of relief is all I can hear. The cold hand on my leg moves over my knee. My limbs immobile, my skin tingles and suddenly I cannot tell if I am clothed or if my legs are bare.

Then comes the first voice again, this time an angry snarl. 'You said I could have her first if I gave you my last crystal.'

'Have the corpse. She's still warm and the blood'll make her good and wet for you.' I hear a hiss of laughter and movement close behind me, and then the hand on my leg is joined by another, equally cold; together they feel my thigh and my hip, one hand cupping the curve of my ass, the other moving over my hip and down between my legs.

Another vicious shiver wracks my body at the same time I hear the other voice swear; across the room I hear someone standing up. 'You said I could have her.'

'You can have what's left when I'm finished with her.' The hands leave my body and I hear the fumbling of clothes, the sound of laces being loosened and pulled undone.

'No, I want her first.'

A hiss of fury comes from behind me. 'I said you can have the corpse.'

'And I said I want the live one first, you fucking-'

The sounds of scuffling and a gasp of pain set my heart pounding loudly in my chest, the sudden violent beating of my heart jerking my mind out of its stupor. _The den,_ I remember frantically, _the apprentice, whatever the fuck it was that I drank._ Fear courses through my body as I listen to the sounds of the two men fighting, knowing what they intend. _I have to_ _get away_ _._ My fingers crawl to my thigh, but my relief at finding my trousers still on is overwhelmed by my panic when I realise my dagger is missing. I feel around for it desperately, my fingers slipping in the wetness on the floor, remembering that it is the blood I spilled from the woman lying dead beside me.

My consciousness wavers again as I fumble desperately for the dagger and I feel a numb heaviness take over my limbs, urging me to return to the oblivion where I know nothing hurts. _I can't,_ I think, afraid, hopeless, when suddenly my hand brushes over the familiar hilt of the Blade of Justice and my mind reconnects with my body in an abrupt and painful rush.

I open my eyes. With a speed I did not know I possessed, I grasp the Blade of Justice and force my body up from the floor, my feet and hands slipping in the pool of blood from Nelia's corpse as I struggle to standing and turn around.

The room is no longer tinted violet to my eyes. It is dark and grim and a small weak fire burns in the centre of the room, built near to the feet of the dead body. The two figures beside the flames break apart from their struggle and turn to look at me, the firelight dancing over their faces. One is a male Nord in rags, squat and balding with a black eye and blood trickling from a split lip. The other man isn't human; the green-grey scaly skin of the tall Argonian's bare upper body festers with sores and untended scars; unlike the Nord, whose pupils are wide and black with his intoxication, the lizard's slanted eyes are a bright poisonous yellow, the pupils two dark slits.

'Now what?' the Nord asks the Argonian, his voice thick from his bleeding lip. 'She's awake.'

'We put her back to sleep,' the lizard says as if it's obvious.

'Stay away from me,' I say before either of them can take a step forward. The sharp voice that comes out of my mouth does not sound like my own and I hold up the dagger as I stand beside the apprentice's corpse, my boots stained by the blood. 'Come any closer and I'll cut your throats.'

Unlike the men I threatened on the night I joined the Guild, the two addicts don't laugh in my face, but I almost wish they had; the lizard's wide hungry smile sends a chill down my back when I catch sight of his razor sharp fangs.

With a swiftness I did not expect, he steps forward to block my path to the door. 'No need for that, sweetling,' he says quietly. 'We're all friends. What's your name, hm?'

'You said I could have her first,' the Nord mutters angrily from beside the fire, but neither I nor the Argonian pay him any mind.

'Move out the way or I'll kill you,' I say, gripping the Blade of Justice tighter, ready to strike.

A soft laugh rasps from the lizard's throat. 'My pretty whore looked just like you,' he tells me. 'Clean little neck. Soft little neck. Lie down and I won't bleed you like I did her.'

He hisses and shows his fangs, the sight freezing my body in fear and suddenly making me forget how to hold a dagger, much less how to use it in combat. _You fight back, it will hurt more,_ I think, hearing Grelod's warning, heeding it, knowing she was right. For a moment, terror grounds me where I stand as the lizard moves towards me, until some vague instinct flickers inside me and my fingers tighten abruptly around the handle of the Blade of Justice. The feel of the dagger in my hand calms some part of my heart, hardens it, turns it to sharp steel - as the Argonian lunges for me, my hand rises and the dagger slashes wide through the air, connecting with his bare stomach, the sharpness of the Blade tearing clean through his scales.

Black blood bursts from between the torn scales, showering me in a dark rain. The Argonian hisses viciously, but as he grabs my shoulders and leans down to bury his fangs in my neck, the hours of daggerplay return to me and in one swift motion I twist the dagger in my hand and plunge it into the centre of the lizard's chest, pushing with all my weight, hearing an agonised cry and feeling the cold scaly hands clutch uselessly at my shoulders.

I pull free the dagger with a gasp of effort and shove the Argonian backwards. He collapses down onto his knees, blood pouring from him, and despite my fear, I feel a keen thrill of satisfaction pass through me at the sight of a man kneeling before me and at my mercy.

_And I have no mercy._ I step forward and bring the Blade of Justice across the lizard's throat viciously, ending him, before I kick the corpse down to the ground. My boots slip in the second tide of blood.

My eyes flicker over to the balding Nord still standing by the fire. He stares at me and I stare at him, and in that brief moment, I cannot tell if the look in his dark dilated eyes is one of fear or admiration.

Then he runs for the door.

He's quicker than I gave him credit for and the Nord is out in the hallway and halfway down the ladder before I can even think about burying the Blade in his back. I rush after him through the warehouse and follow him out into the canals, the heavy rain making my blood-wet boots slip on the walkways. I race to keep up with the Nord, my heart thudding dangerously with the knowledge that if he gets away, if he is sentient enough to remember my face, he will be able to link me with the two corpses left behind, and the thought of even the slimmest chance of being caught drenches me in cold fear as surely as the lashing rain.

I lose sight of the Nord as he disappears around a corner; when I follow, I find the way forward completely under water and impassable. I scour the darkness through the steady rain for a sign of him, but soon realise that he must know the canals far better than I do, as he has vanished without a trace. Panic courses through me and I stop by the water's edge, my bloody hand gripping my dagger tight.

_Now what?_

I close my eyes and listen to the water, wishing for it to calm my pounding heart, but the sound of the rain crashing into the canals only makes my fear mount faster, conscious that the storm will not wash away the red and black stains on my clothes and skin. _I_ _need to go somewhere safe_ _and hidden_ _,_ _before someone finds me looking like this._ I try to think, to decide what to do, but my mind is blurry and panicked and incapable of thinking of anything beyond how Neila's sad dark eyes looked into mine and how it felt to bury my dagger into the lizard's chest. Aware of the fact that hiding here or returning to the God's Tap to lay low are equally foolish options, I find only one other option presents itself to me, and in that moment I realise how desperately I wish to be back at the Guild. _I should've stayed and curled up in Rune's arms when I still could, when I still could've fooled myself that I deserve that kindness._ Quickly, my heart cold, I pull my hood over my head, my hair matted by the rain and the blood of the apprentice and the Argonian. With my dagger clutched in my hand, I head back to the Guild.

I run fast and keep to the shadows, relieved that the rainstorm has left the alleys near enough deserted. It's not until I'm in the graveyard that I slow to a walk, breathless and exhausted, and I sheathe the Blade of Justice at my thigh. My fingers slide wet as I open the entrance to the tomb, something catching in my heart at the familiar sound of the stone pulling back.

As I descend the ladder and walk along the passageway to the Cistern door, I hear the distant rushing water, the noise growing louder with each step, but the comfort I usually take from the sound does not seem to reach me now. At the door, I drop to my knees and pull out my lockpicks as normal, but my fingers fumble with the lock and the picks slip from my wet hands to the ground and a sudden sense of despair crashes over me. I look down at my hands, at the red blood that was meant to be there, and the black blood that wasn't. _I didn't hesitate to kill him,_ I think, recalling the pleasure I took from burying my dagger in his chest. _A pleasure I've wanted for a long time._

Without warning, I remember vividly the guests of Honorhall, the way I would bite my lip to keep quiet, the way I heeded every threat, the way that after a while I did not even entertain the thought of struggling or fighting, much less imagining how it would feel to cut their throats as they knelt before me.

Bitter unease claws down my back at the memories I thought that I had managed to forget, and despite my relief that I killed the Argonian before he could hurt me, I feel a hollowness in my stomach as I realise how many throats I wish I could've cut before now. _And those I wish I hadn't cut,_ I think, picturing the woman in the shack, picturing the Dunmer underneath me, picturing Nelia sleeping peaceful and oblivious.

Suddenly exhausted and not wanting to think about it anymore, I give up with the lock, knowing my shaking wet hands are too unsteady to be of any use. I move down the passageway away from the door and sit against the stone wall, bringing my knees to my chest and closing my eyes.

_For a moment, I forgot everything,_ I think, remembering the precious moments in the den when there was nothing. I lean back against the wall and feel the strength leave my body, my mind begging for oblivion again before I lose consciousness and everything falls dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the overly depressing tone to this instalment, poor Wren is just an outlet for whatever mental state I am in when I write/edit these chapters.  
> Also I feel like it's just a fucking stupid all-round bad chapter and I'm really sorry if this was just not enjoyable to read. I know it's bad. The quality will improve next chapter. Plus there was meant to be a smut scene at the end when Wren returns to the Cistern (naturally, Mercer has an opinion about her leaving the Guild without his permission...) but the rest just got too long and depressing so I pushed that scene back to the next chapter, which will hopefully compensate for this horrendously bad instalment ;) And it's only one more chapter until a certain duo return to the Guild and we start moving forward with the story some more.  
> And I'm really trying to stick to getting a chapter out every week. So far it's been fine, but this one was really hard to get done for various reasons, hence why this is finally being posted last thing on Sunday... But it felt like the last hurdle, in a way - unless I deviate from what I've already written, this was the last DB contract, so now Wren will have to find some other way to fill her time... now where is Mercer Frey... and that damn redhead....
> 
> Aaaand because I want to end on a light note: I was doing a little writing on my phone when I was out and it tried to autocorrect 'Mercer's' to 'Master's'. Oh phone, you know my game too well ;)


	12. The Lesson

_My skin tingles and the sound of rushing water plays in my ears, like a stream of endless sighs. My limbs refuse to move as I lie beside the waterfall, my body sinking into the soft emptiness beneath me, the sensation unpleasant, as if I am being crushed and_ _left_ _floating_ _in the air_ _at once. I struggle to get up, to get out, but the harder I fight, the deeper I seem to fall._

_'I'll put you to sleep.' A hand strokes me, touches me, groping at my ass and breasts. 'I'll make you wish you were dead.'_

_I reach desperately for my dagger in the void around me, panic rising fast. My heart lifts in relief when my hand lands upon a familiar object, but when I look down, I find my fingers clutching only the blunt, clunky carving knife. The blade is chipped and rusted and dripping violet blood._

_The creature standing over me laughs, a shape of dark shadows without form or substance, save for a pair of eyes, the colour_ _a clear_ _sky blue. 'You look better dead,' it says. Its groping turns to_ _innocent_ _caresses, gentle and loving_ _as if I am the creature's favourite child_ _, though it only leaves me shivering with an intense chill and the urgency to get away._

 _Something weighs down my arm and the effort of trying to lift the carving knife is excruciating, but the fear and the sudden violence of my heartbeat is twice as painful when I find I cannot_ _even_ _raise the blade_ _an inch_ _to defend myself - I can only stare up into the darkness, feeling myself sink further into the void under the watch of the bright blue eyes._

_'I'll kill you,' I try to say, but my mouth doesn't move any more than my arms._

_Astrid smiles, her hand stroking my hair softly. 'Sithis is waiting for you,' she murmurs. 'Sithis is watching. Sithis is-'_

I wake abruptly with a violent jolt, my heart beating twice as fast as normal. My eyes snap open in fear, Astrid's voice so clear in my mind it's as if she is still leaning over me.

 _She's not,_ I realise, recognising the stone walls of the Cistern, hearing the water rushing somewhere nearby, my heart rate slowing to a more natural speed as my surroundings become familiar - but as I stare at the wall, I notice that the pattern of the stones is slightly different than normal, and that the sheets smell musty and the straw mattress beneath me feels hard and unused, and with a jolt I realise I am not in my own bed.

Confusion clouding my mind, I roll over and my heart abruptly jumps again when I find Rune sitting beside the bed bed. The dark blond thief looks up from the book he is reading, relief lighting his dark blue eyes.

'Wren. You're awake.' Rune puts the book aside and hurries to help me into a sitting position, his hands gentle on my shoulders. 'How are you feeling?'

'Tired,' I say truthfully, an unusual lethargy weighing down my limbs in a way that I've never felt before, not even after a restless night. _It's as if I'm still dreaming, still immobile._ 'What...' I start to say, but my question tails off as I suddenly remember exactly what happened and I look down to find my clothes stained and the loose curls of my hair matted with dried blood.

 _From not one but two people_ , I remember, my stomach coiling uncomfortably as the events of the previous night return to me, although my memories seem tainted in a violet haze that makes the details difficult to recall. _Or maybe I just don't want to remember any part of it,_ a voice whispers, leaving a painful hollowness in my stomach.

I look at Rune and the concern in his deep blue eyes makes my heart hurt too, knowing I don't deserve it. 'I fell asleep in the passageway,' I say, as if that was the extent of what happened. _Fell asleep, passed out, gave myself over to oblivion._

The thief nods. 'You didn't look very comfortable there,' he says lightly, thankfully not questioning why I was lying down in the passageway in the first place. 'I thought you might prefer to be on a bed rather than the stone floor.'

'You carried me here?' At his nod, I feel a rush of gratitude and relief that Rune was the one who happened upon me last night and carried me into the Cistern, doubting if I would've been treated quite so gently if any of the other guildmembers had found me.

 _Or the Guildmaster,_ I think, suddenly realising that being left on the uncomfortable stone floor might've been the least of my concerns had Mercer found me unconscious and entirely vulnerable. My gaze darts past Rune to scan the Cistern, but the Guildmaster's desk is mercifully empty, as is the rest of the Cistern.

I smile at Rune, the keen sense of relief making me feel a little lighter. 'You couldn't manage to carry me across the Cistern to my own bed, though?' I tease. 'Surely I'm not that heavy, am I?'

Rune laughs. 'Well, you were drenched from the storm, I didn't want to get your bed wet and muddy,' he explains.

Although we both know my clothes are sodden and stained by the blood more than the rain, his consideration makes any joking reply I was going to say falter on my lips. I open my mouth and close it, not knowing how to respond to his kindness, not knowing how to thank him properly when he has never asked for nor suggested that he expects anything in return.

 _He's the closest thing to a gentleman I'll find down here,_ I think, remembering what Brynjolf had said, realising that he was right. _At least in that regard I didn't need convincing._

'Thank you,' I blurt out, my voice awkward as I try both to ignore my thoughts and to find the words to thank him. 'For finding me last night, and for... for carrying me,' I finish lamely.

If Rune notices my awkwardness, he doesn't comment upon it, for which I am grateful. 'No problem, Wren,' he says. 'I'm just glad you're back and you're safe.' He pauses, his gaze moving over my face. 'Are you all right?'

I force my mouth into a smile and bitterly wish that I could tell him everything about what happened last night, to tell him that I killed a woman and realised I am broken as she was, and to admit that I killed a man on a desperate instinct and I liked it. _But no amount of daggerplay is going to trick me into thinking I'm strong enough to share those truths._

'Of course,' I answer brightly, seeing the concern in Rune's eyes, knowing he doesn't believe me. 'Can we train later?' I say before he can speak, wanting nothing more than to return to the normal routine, despite the fact that my limbs still feel as exhausted and useless as they were in my dream and I wonder if I can even get out of bed, much less hold a dagger properly.

Rune is evidently thinking along the same lines. 'If you're sure,' he says, his tone dubious.

'I'm sure,' I say firmly. 'Just give me some time to...' I tail off and gesture awkwardly to my bloody clothes and hair.

'Of course.' Rune gets the hint and stands up, thankfully not pushing the subject of my appearance further. 'Whenever you want, Wren. Come find me.'

I return his smile gratefully and watch him go as he heads into the Flagon. When the door has closed behind him, I shut my eyes and listen to the rushing sound of the Cistern, the exhaustion in my body tempting me to sleep a while longer, until the thought of returning to my dream sets my heart beating uneasily and the sound of the water makes my skin suddenly itch with the sensation of the dried blood.

My legs unsteady, I force myself up and cross over the water pool to my own bed, finding that Rune has left the Blade of Justice on my pillow, presumably having removed it from my body to let me sleep more comfortably. I feel a flicker of fear when I think that I was so unconscious I wasn't aware of someone taking my dagger from me, but the feeling gets pushed aside when I realise with a jolt that the dagger is completely clean, without a drop of blood on the handle or the blade, despite the floods it spilled from two bodies last night. _Either the rain washed it away, or Rune did._ The thought twists my heart in a way I cannot comprehend, and I quickly hide the dagger beneath my pillow before gathering some clean clothes and walking back across the Cistern.

In the water room with the door securely locked, I start to peel the clothing off my body, the bloody material sticking to my skin. When I pull off my trousers, I feel something in my hip pocket, and a moment later my fingers retrieve an empty glass bottle - the object is unfamiliar to me for a few confused seconds, until I remember what it is and I quickly shove the empty vial back into my pocket. _Stupid girl,_ I think and strip off the rest of my clothes, leaving the bloody heap on the stone floor before I walk naked to the rushing water.

I don't know how long I stand beneath the flow, the metallic smell of the dried blood slowly fading as the water runs red off my body. I thread my fingers through my hair, loosening the tangles as I try to stop my mind from wandering to last night. _I fulfilled Astrid's contract and I left and that's all,_ I think firmly, and by the time I have rinsed clean my blood-matted hair and washed the last of the blood from my skin, I have almost convinced myself that anything beyond the completion of my contract was just another strange dream that I must forget. _And the only reality that matters is that I am one step closer to Astrid._

Back in the Cistern and in clean clothes, I take the empty glass bottle from the pocket of my stained trousers and hide it at the bottom of my chest beside the carving knife, not wanting to see either item or recall their memories but some strange reluctance to part with them preventing me from throwing them away. I close the chest sharply and ball up the bloody clothes into my arms before going above ground to dump them in an overgrown corner of the graveyard, preferring to bury them as surely as they buried Grelod rather than attempting to wash them clean.

The rain falls in a light shower as I walk through the city in the direction of the God's Tap. In my room at the tavern, I gather up my things quickly, stuffing the coin purse into my satchel along with the stolen book, wondering when Dinya will start to worry about her apprentice, whether she will notice the missing offerings before she notices the missing woman.

 _It's done,_ I remind myself as cold regret runs down my back. _If I start imagining how different I wish things had been in the past, I'll pull at a thread I don't want to unravel._

I finish clearing out my room and pay my tab before I gladly leave the God's Tap and all the memories behind. As I step outside and retrace my steps back to the graveyard, the dusk sky darkens to a grim grey and the rain grows colder. I pull up my hood and decide to make the trip worthwhile; halfway back to the Guild, I take a detour through a residential area and find a house with the windows dark as the sky above before I slip around the back and pull out my lockpicks.

A short while later, with my coin purse a little heavier and my heart a little lighter, I return to the Guild. Rune is already in the training room when I go to find him, and thankfully he is alone. Eager to practise, I'm about to draw the Blade of Justice when Rune pushes a silver sheathed dagger into my hands.

'I've been meaning to give this to you,' he says as I look at him in confusion. 'You're better with two, you know.'

'You got this for me?' I turn the dagger over in my hands and pull it from its sheathe. Slightly larger and heavier than the Blade of Justice, the dagger is curved and a milky silver colour, like a crescent moon. I look up at Rune. 'This must have cost you a fortune,' I say, my heart warming at his generosity.

The familiar smile comes over his face, his deep blue eyes crinkling at the corners. 'I didn't buy it, Wren,' he says. 'But yes, I'm sure it cost someone a fortune.'

I find the gesture to be no less meaningful, knowing the dagger would've fetched a high price had the thief chosen to sell it rather than give it to me. 'Thank you,' I say haltingly, struggling again to find a way to tell him how much I appreciate it.

I look down at the curved silver blade, trying to imagine staining it red. _What if Astrid named Rune as my next contract?_ I think suddenly, wondering how I would react if I read the thief's name on a slip of paper and was handed a bag of gold, but the thought makes my heart clench so uncomfortably that I force it from my mind.

'How about I try to kill you with it?' I say playfully, as I put aside the silver dagger's sheathe and draw the Blade of Justice.

Rune laughs. 'All right, then,' he says and draws his own daggers, a pair of long red steel blades. 'Give it your best shot.'

Not having held two blades since before Astrid kidnapped me, I'm surprised when wielding the pair of daggers feels just as natural as before. _Rune's right, I'm better with two,_ I think as we spar and I find myself twice as fast. _Does that mean I can kill twice as fast?_

When I beat Rune for the fourth time and I'm certain he's not letting me win, satisfaction flickers through me and before I know it I think of last night and how much I enjoyed cutting the Argonian's throat as he knelt before me. I realise that killing him felt different than Nelia, than the Dunmer, than the woman in the shack. It was like Grelod, only this time the fear was different; I knew what to expect, I knew I could do it, and I knew I could get away with it. _It was justice. And it felt good._

After an hour or so, we sheathe our weapons and take a breather. I hop up onto the straw bales as Rune tells me what's been happening in the Guild - or not happening, as the thief tells me that work is drying up and most guildmembers are having to resort to chance burglaries to keep their pockets full, and when there is work to be had, the heists fail more often than not. The good news, as Rune tells me, is that there was a note from Solitude: apparently Brynjolf and Sapphire's task was successful and they are on their way back to Riften. I'm about to change the subject and ask Rune where he found the silver dagger when the door to the training room opens - for a wild moment I think it's Brynjolf, my mind still on the redhead and the thought of seeing him again, and my heart skips in anticipation, more eagerly than I knew possible.

When I see that it is Mercer who walks into the room, my fluttering heart drops into my stomach.

The Guildmaster's dark gaze moves over me briefly before he looks at Rune. 'Out,' he orders the thief, his voice short and brooking no argument.

Rune is smart enough not to hesitate, although he catches my eye before he leaves. 'I'll see you later,' he says, and I nod in reply.

As the thief leaves the room and closes the door behind him, I slip down reluctantly from the straw bales, wanting to be on my feet. _And to_ _more_ _easily draw my daggers if required,_ I think.

The Guildmaster inclines his head as he looks at me, his mouth curving into a small smile. 'Look who's returned to the nest,' he says softly, the low sound of his voice suddenly reminding me of the things he said to me the last time I was in his presence, when his hand was between my legs, when I was on my knees before him, when I swore he would never touch me again and he laughed quietly. _We'll see, little bird._

My cheeks blush with the memory and I feel hot fury rise in me. 'What do you want?' I say shortly.

'Watch it,' Mercer says, his own voice just as abrupt as he leans back against the wall, exactly where Brynjolf leant when he too interrupted my daggerplay with Rune. 'I'm not in the mood for your backtalk.'

'Then what do you want?' I say, drawing my arms around my body, feeling ill at ease.

Mercer's eyes narrow as he looks at me, although I can scarcely decide if his expression is one of amusement or irritation. 'I want to know what you think this place is,' he says.

'What this place is?' I repeat, confused, wary, sensing a trap and having no desire to engage in conversation. _No, my body desires something else,_ I think, suddenly feeling conscious of myself, feeling every part of my body on edge, just like when Brynjolf spoke to me in this room. _Could he really make me moan louder than I did when Mercer fucked me?_

The Guildmaster sighs, and this time his impatience is clear. 'This training room, the whole fucking Cistern, what is this place?'

'The Thieves Guild,' I answer slowly.

'Good. So there is still a shred of sense in your head.' He folds his arms. 'And remind me, who is the Guild's master?'

'I don't have time for this,' I snap, knowing where he is going with it. 'So why don't you just say what you're going to say and leave me alone?'

'Frustrated, are we?' His mouth curls into a smile. 'Poor little bird, I bet those small fingers of yours don't work as well as mine, do they?'

'I said I don't have time for this,' I say, my cheeks flushing as I remember just how well his fingers work.

'No? You seem to have forgotten how things are around here, so I'll remind you, shall I?' Mercer pushes away from the wall and starts walking towards me. 'You work for the Guild. You work for me. You don't leave whenever you choose and you don't leave without my permission.'

I back away to the wall, but thankfully Mercer stops in the middle of the room, and my relief at him keeping his distance allows me to properly hear his words. 'Your permission?' I repeat, incredulous. 'You expect me to ask for your permission to leave the Guild for less than a week?'

'Did I not just say that?' Mercer raises his eyebrows. 'Fucking hell, do you ever actually listen? You belong to the Guild. I'm the Guildmaster. What part of that don't you understand, Wren?'

'The part where you think that you being Guildmaster makes you my master too,' I say angrily.

He smirks. 'Your master?' he says. 'You'd like that, though, wouldn't you? You can call me _master_ if that gets you off, little bird.'

'I'd rather leave the Guild forever than call you that,' I tell him, meaning it with all my heart.

'And where would you go, Wren? Are you planning to live in that room you've been renting at the God's Tap?' He laughs mockingly. 'You could barely stay away a week before you came running back.'

I feel fear claw down my spine at the realisation that he knows where I've been staying. _He's been watching me, or at least had informants watching me._

'Leave me alone,' I say, my voice weaker and more afraid than I'd like it to be, but it makes no matter, for I realise then that Mercer is not like Brynjolf, and the Guildmaster will not obey my request to keep his distance.

'No,' Mercer says. 'I think you need to learn your place first.' His dark eyes flicker over my body slowly. 'And I suppose I've got time for a quick lesson.'

Before I can respond, Mercer turns away and walks to the door. For a moment I think he's leaving and my heart leaps, until he pulls something from his pocket and I hear the distinct click of the lock, despite the fact I didn't know there even was a lock on the training room door. The Guildmaster turns back to me and the dangerous glint in his eyes makes my heart skip a beat.

'Stay away from me,' I say, just as I did to the Argonian last night, but as Mercer walks towards me, I am suddenly aware that my hands are empty and the uneasy feeling inside me is not borne of terror but of expectant desire, my body knowing that its satisfaction can come at a cheaper price than cutting his throat.

 _And it's a price I want to pay,_ a distant voice whispers in my head as Mercer stands before me and I look up at him, my heart racing fast, not wanting to listen to the thought in my mind.

Mercer doesn't listen to me either; he takes my shoulders and turns me around roughly, shoving me front first up against the wall, my hands instinctively rising to take the brunt of the impact. 'Let's see how fast you learn,' he says as he moves up close behind me.

I clutch at the stone wall as Mercer's hands snake over my hips from behind and slip around to the fastenings of my trousers. Instinctively my body shudders back from his touch, remembering why I never wanted this to happen again, but Mercer's arms move up to trap me between his body and the wall.

'Be careful, Wren,' he says sharply, leaning in closer behind me. 'Unless you want me to teach you a different lesson, one that won't be nearly as enjoyable for you.'

He grabs my hips with both hands and pulls my lower body back to him, pressing his groin up against my ass. The unyielding pressure of his solid body against mine sends an abrupt and hot rush of anticipation through me, swiftly pushing away all thought of resisting when Mercer's hands slip back around my hips and unlace the ties of my trousers.

'That's better,' he says, his voice low in my ear, before his right hand dips beneath the material of my smallclothes and moves down to my core, the sudden sensation of his fingers between my legs making my breath hitch in my throat.

I dig my fingers into the wall and try to convince myself not to react, knowing that no matter what my body wants, I don't want to give Mercer that satisfaction - but it only takes the Guildmaster a few deliberate strokes between my legs to flood my body with heat and to make me wet for him.

Mercer laughs quietly as my cheeks flush at my body's weakness. 'It really doesn't take much, does it?' he says with amusement as his fingers start to work me slowly.

 _It doesn't,_ I think distantly in agreement, the purposed rhythm of his touch at my clit causing pleasure to mount in me faster than I knew possible. It's not long before a breathy moan escapes my lips as the feeling starts to intensify, my body eager to achieve its satisfaction, recalling vividly how it felt the last time.

'Gods, you're even easier than before,' Mercer mutters, but I hear the smug tone to his voice. 'Haven't you done this to yourself while you've been gone?'

I ignore him, barely able to think of anything except the pleasure, not wanting to think about anything except the pleasure. _If I do, I'll start wondering what the fuck I'm doing._

'Wren,' he says, leaning down to murmur in my ear as his fingers suddenly stop moving, making me whimper quietly with longing. 'I asked you a question.'

'No,' I answer him, completely unable to recall what I have been doing this past week but knowing that I have not felt like this since he last touched me, knowing I would've remembered.

The Guildmaster makes a satisfied laugh in his throat. 'Such restraint, little bird.' His fingers resume their motion between my legs, quickly making the pleasure rise in me once more. 'I'm surprised. You usually can't help yourself, can you?'

As if my body hears him, my hips start to arch with his touch, my ass pushing back into his groin, and when I feel the hardness of his cock pressing against me through our trousers, I realise that his own desire is heightening. _Not as fast as mine,_ I think, the combination of his fingers working expertly at my core and the pressure of his unyielding body behind me causing my breathing to quicken in my throat and my blood to race hot through my veins.

'So you want me to finish the lesson?' Mercer says in my ear, a few moments later.

I don't reply as I grip tight at the wall, the rough stone scratching my fingers.

His touch grows harder, as does his voice. 'Answer me.'

'Yes,' I whimper, wanting nothing else.

'Yes?' Mercer repeats. 'Yes, what?'

My instincts scream at me not to answer as I know he wants me to, but in that moment my instincts seem disconnected from every other part of me.

'Please.' My voice is a whisper, barely audible, but I know Mercer hears, for he makes a quiet laugh in my ear, the sound making me shiver with regret at the short pitiful word out of my mouth.

'Good girl.' I hear the smirk in his voice. 'Then walk your little ass over to my room and wait outside until I come back later.'

He takes his hand from between my legs and steps back from me. I'm just strong enough to stop myself from whining needily at the abrupt absence of his touch, but when I turn away from the wall to face him, trying to control my desire, trying to crush the need he has built so swiftly inside me, my frustration must show on my face, as Mercer snorts in laughter as he looks down at me.

'What? I've got other things to do beyond seeing to you.' His eyes flash with amusement. 'I'll be back in an hour, so try to show some more of that restraint and wait. Besides, is your memory that fucking bad? I told you you'd have to earn it next time. While I'm gone, think about how you can do that, little bird.'

Before I've even reconnected my mind to respond to him, the Guildmaster turns away and strides back across the room to unlock the door, and a second later I jump as it slams shut behind him.

For a while there is silence, save for the distant rushing of water and the blood thudding in my ears. _In every part of me,_ I think, feeling my body's warmth, the simmering frustration and desire fighting with the fury that Mercer can so easily provoke those feelings inside me.

I refasten my trousers swiftly. _I'm not waiting outside his room for him to finish what he has started,_ I think resolutely, even as my body begs for a release and the quick touch of my hands at my trouser ties sends a shiver of anticipation through my lower stomach. _I'm not._

I don't leave the training room until my breathing is steady and I am certain my face is no longer flushed. When I walk out into the Cistern, I see Thrynn and Vipir drinking in the kitchen, while another couple of guildmembers are embroiled in an argument over on the other side of the pool; I keep my distance from all of them, suddenly conscious of myself and the ache of desire between my legs, as if my fellow guildmembers somehow know what just happened and how susceptible my body is to our Guildmaster. _Thrynn knows,_ I remember suddenly, recalling how he overheard me that night in Mercer's room, and a blush stalks up my neck as I hurry over to my bed.

Still fully dressed, I curl up beneath the sheets with the vague idea of trying to sleep, but my mind races and the expectant tension in my body remains, every part of me resisting sleep and the visions it might bring. _I don't want to go back there,_ I think, remembering my dream of last night and the feeling of being crushed, of falling into the void and being unable to defend myself. The memory douses me in a cold sweat. _I'd sooner think about how stupid I am for wanting Mercer Frey to touch me rather than think about anything else,_ I realise with an uncomfortable flutter in my stomach, realising that I'd rather be with him than be alone with nothing but my memories and my fear. _My humiliation at his hands hurts less than everything else._

My heart hardens and it's not long before I get up from my bed and cross the Cistern to the Guildmaster's room.

 _It's just_ _this once_ _,_ I console myself firmly as I wait outside his door, knowing that tonight my resolve is far weaker than my desire to distract myself from my memories - but I assure myself that once the events of last night are no longer so fresh in my mind, I will find it far easier to resist succumbing and playing right into his hands. _Like my week away made me forget what it felt like to have him touch me,_ a sarcastic voice whispers in my ear, sounding more like the Guildmaster than I'd like.

He keeps me waiting longer than an hour. I'm half-tempted to pass the time - and regain a little control over the situation - by picking the lock on his door and waiting inside, but I remember his threat if I ever broke into his room again, which in turn reminds me of what he was doing to me when he made the threat, and once that's at the forefront of my mind, it's all I can do not to start pacing up and down in frustration.

I regret my decision to be here the moment I hear footsteps down the passageway and the Guildmaster steps out of the shadows. His jacket and hood is showered with a light rain and he carries a satchel slung over his shoulder, but I care little about where he's been; as his dark gaze moves languidly over my body and a smug smirk pulls at his mouth, I realise my terrible mistake in being here waiting for him so obediently.

'Aren't you eager,' Mercer says mockingly as he pulls the key from his pocket. 'I can tell you're going to make this a very quick lesson, little bird.'

I fold my arms and don't answer as he unlocks the door, wondering if I should leave now before I make any more mistakes that I will regret. Despite the quiet voice in my head begging that I should turn around and leave, my body has a different course of action in mind and before I know it my feet follow the Guildmaster into his room; the sound of lock clicking behind me silences the voice of warning in my head.

I stand in the middle of the room as Mercer drops the satchel on his desk with the unmistakeable sound clinking of coins. I watch as he removes the golden daggers from his hips and lays them beside the satchel before he turns back to me.

'Well?' The Guildmaster begins unfastening his jacket, his eyes never leaving mine. 'I told you to earn it. So get on your knees and earn it.'

I draw my arms tighter around me, feeling like I am already on my knees at his mercy and not wanting to make it a reality. 'I don't think so,' I say.

'No?' He smirks at my expression. 'Oh, you thought I was just going to finish you off? But I don't think you deserve it, do you? You were gone for almost a week, little bird, and that's a week you've made the Guild no money. A week you've been of no use to me.' He laughs as he finishes taking off his jacket and throws it down on his desk beside the satchel. 'Did you really think you'd walk back in here and I'd lick that little cunt of yours just because you want me to?'

I glare at him, my cheeks flushing. 'You want it too,' I say sharply, desperate to retain some semblance of dignity. 'You started it. I never asked you for this.'

'You're right, you didn't ask for it,' he says, his tone mocking. 'You begged for it.'

'Not at first,' I snap.

That only makes him laugh. 'Such a disobedient little slut today, aren't you?' Mercer says softly. 'Clearly you still haven't learnt that things go better for you when you co-operate.' He steps forward and closes the gap between us. 'I told you I'm not getting you started,' he reminds me as he reaches up and roughly pulls apart my crossed arms, allowing his hands to get to my chest, where his quick fingers start to unfasten my jacket. 'So if you want to get off, first you'll have to get on your knees and know your place.'

At his proximity and the touch of his hands on my body, a flicker of anticipation races through me and I don't resist as Mercer pulls off my jacket and drops it down to the floor. As he tugs my shirt up and over my head, his fingers brush against my bare skin and my desire heightens abruptly, my breath catching and the feeling intensifying when his fingers move up to unlace my binding and he swiftly pulls the material away from my breasts.

Mercer steps back and his dark eyes flicker slowly over my bare upper body, lingering over my breasts, looking at me for longer than I find comfortable, and I draw my arms across my body. _He knows I want him to touch me, not look at me_ , I think, seeing a small satisfied smile curve his mouth.

'Earn it,' the Guildmaster orders me again, and under the weight of his gaze I find I cannot find the words to argue or the resolve to hold my ground.

I drop to my knees in front of him and unfasten his trousers with unsteady hands before I pull the material down to free his cock. He is already hard for me and the thought that I have at least that much power over him makes my submission easier to bear; I take him in hand and lean in to lick along his length, my tongue slow and hot over him. A moment later and before Mercer can demand it, I open my mouth wide and take him in.

I start to move my mouth back and forth, and over the wet sounds as I suck down on his cock, I hear Mercer pull off his shirt and toss it to the floor. A second later, I feel his hands on my head and his fingers knotting tight in my hair; I grip his hips and relax my neck, knowing what he intends and what he wants, but I still cannot help a faint whine of pain as he roughly jerks my head closer to his body until his cock presses hard at the back of my throat.

'Keep making those sounds, little bird,' he murmurs with a soft laugh, keeping himself deep in my mouth as he starts moving my head backwards and forwards, the head of his cock rubbing deliberately at the back of my throat. 'It's the only noise I actually like hearing coming out of your mouth.'

He gets what he wants when I moan quietly again, some part of me hoping that my discomfort will bring him to his satisfaction sooner rather than later - I'm proven wrong, as he keeps me on my knees with his cock in my mouth for longer than I think I can bear or he can last, and I realise the Guildmaster clearly isn't as desperate for a release as I am. By the time he finally stops moving my head, my knees ache painfully from the hard stone beneath me and my neck and jaw are sore from the unrelenting pressure of him in my throat.

When he takes himself from my mouth and steps back from me, I collapse down to all fours and gasp to take a breath through my overworked mouth. Mercer looks down at me in amusement as he starts to remove his boots.

'Come on, _that_ was too much for you?' He snorts with laughter. 'Poor delicate little bird. Maybe I should stop before I hurt you?' He laughs again as he pulls off his trousers. 'But you don't want me to stop, do you? Stand up, bird. I want to see just how wet you are for me.'

Not wanting to be on my knees for him any longer, I struggle to my feet as Mercer steps back up to me. In moments he strips me of the rest of my clothes, and I barely have time to feel the nervous shiver at being exposed to him again before he shoves me flat down onto the bed and climbs on top of me. I find that my body is more than willing to obey the Guildmaster's demands even before he makes them, as my legs part wide to allow him to kneel between my thighs.

Mercer looks down at me, his eyes moving slowly over my breasts before his gaze moves down between my legs. 'Wet enough,' he says quietly, as he takes himself in hand and leans over me. 'Does that mean you've understood the lesson?'

'The lesson?' I repeat, clutching at his broad shoulders, my voice faint with my sudden anticipation as I feel his hard cock brush against my entrance and my desire for a release increases abruptly with the nearness of him.

Mercer grabs my hands from his shoulders, pinning them either side of my head. 'Gods, you're slow,' he mutters as he lets go of one of my hands and reaches down between our bodies, and without another word he thrusts his cock inside me.

I cry out sharply, the pain no less than the first time - yet as he pushes deeper, I feel my rising desire overtake the fading pain, my body still on edge and desperate for its satisfaction from his fingers an hour earlier. My breathing quickens as I try to get used to him and my free hand rises to his shoulder once more, but I don't have time to wonder if I intend to push him away or pull him closer, as again Mercer grasps my wrist and pins it against the sheets by my head.

'Do I always have to spell it out for you?' he says, looking down at me as he reaches my limits, his hips against my spread thighs. He leans down closer, his weight pressing down on my wrists as he holds himself within me. 'I'll make it as simple as I can. You leave the Guild again without my permission and I'll chain you naked to this fucking bed.'

I don't reply as Mercer starts to move back and forth inside me, slow and deep and deliberate like he was in my throat, except this time it is pleasure that aches fiercely through me rather than pain.

'Am I talking to a damn wall?' he says sharply. 'You don't go anywhere without my permission, is that understood?'

'I can do what I want,' I gasp through the pleasure, although I'm well aware every inch of my body currently has no desire to ever leave his bed, let alone the Guild.

Mercer laughs softly, seemingly knowing my thoughts. 'What you want is _this_.' Suddenly he thrusts hard and rough inside me, and the sound of his own breath catching is lost beneath my keen cry of pleasure.

As he holds himself there, I feel my muscles clench tight around his cock, the need for a release suddenly building uncontrollably inside me, although I do my best to hold it back and to steady my breathing.

'There's no point biting your lip, little bird,' Mercer says as he looks down at me beneath him, his dark gaze watching me in amusement. 'All you have to do is tell me you want me to fuck you and I'll do it as hard as you like.'

I clench my jaw tight, feeling it ache from his efforts earlier but caring about little else beyond the pleasure rising fast and desperately inside me.

'Tell me you want it,' Mercer repeats, before he quickly pulls back and thrusts deep into me again, and as I cry out loudly in pleasure, I know I cannot deny it anymore.

'I want it,' I moan, finally admitting it to myself. 'I want you to fuck me.'

I hear his quiet laugh of satisfaction before he does as promised and slams hard inside me once more. I tilt my head back and moan with the sensation, but it doesn't last for long, and I gasp in frustration as Mercer pulls out of me abruptly.

'You're a slow learner, Wren,' he says as he pushes back from me and gets up from the bed.

I struggle to an upright position just in time to see him retrieve the shackles from his desk drawer. Instinctively, already feeling completely helpless and not wanting him to have any more power over me, I scurry backwards on the bed, but Mercer is quicker than me - he catches my left leg and drags me back, his hand gripping my calf as he closes one of the metal cuffs around my ankle.

'You thought I was joking?' he says as he locks the adjoining cuff around the wooden frame at the foot of the bed. 'You shouldn't underestimate me. I expect you'll learn that before I'm done with you.'

I scramble to reach for the shackles, even though I know well enough that I'm not getting out of them without the key, but Mercer swiftly pushes me back flat on the bed and climbs on top of me again, pinning my hands above my head with one hand. I try to move out from underneath him, but the strength of his body and hard iron of the shackle at my ankle trap me in place, and all I can do is bring my right leg close to my left in the only form of protest I have remaining to me.

'Don't make me chain your legs apart,' Mercer says warningly, and his free hand slips down to my warm wet core.

With only a few hard and skilled strokes at my clit, my legs part for him eagerly once more, my body as weak as my resolve. The Guildmaster pulls my free leg up, hooking my calf into his shoulder before he leans down and enters me again. Before my cry of delight is even out of my mouth, he starts fucking me fast, his pace relentless as he drives his cock as deep as my body allows him - and soon, before I know it, my body succumbs to the feeling and the pleasure peaks in me violently.

I come fast and keenly, my hips arching desperately against him as I moan breathless and loud, until a moment later the tension disappears from every muscle in my body and leaves me limp and useless under him. As my leg slips from his shoulder, Mercer hooks his arm around my knee and pulls me back to where he wants me.

'Desperate little slut,' he mutters as he resumes his pace, his own breathing growing rougher with his effort. 'You're too fucking easy.'

I barely hear his words and care even less, focused only on trying to catch my breath and recover my senses from the height of the release as my body slumps exhausted into the sheets beneath me. _Like sinking into the void,_ I think vaguely, although I'm conscious that oblivion does not offer the same kind of pleasure. _And I want this pleasure more,_ a voice whispers in my head, louder and clearer now, and for once my resolve is too depleted to even try to deny the thought.

It's not long before the Guildmaster finishes too, with a groan and several brutal thrusts that make me gasp with the force against my body. After he's worked out the last of his pleasure, he looks down at me, his dark eyes glinting with a combination of satisfaction and derision.

'It seems you're going to need a few more lessons, aren't you?' he says. 'I don't think you really get what I'm trying to teach you.' He laughs quietly. 'And you come too easy, little bird.'

I gasp as he pulls out of me roughly and he gets up from the bed. I watch him go to his desk once more, and when he returns, I notice that he carries the key to the shackles in his hand.

'Sit up,' he commands, as he stands at the foot of the bed.

I obey, forcing my body to move despite its satisfied exhaustion, and I hear the clinking of the chain at my ankle as I manage to sit up and look at the Guildmaster.

'Here.' Mercer dangles the key in front of me by the chain. At my wary expression, he laughs. 'You can take it and go,' he says. He inclines his head, a smirk curling at his mouth. 'Or you can open your legs and I'll make you come again. And since you've behaved yourself reasonably well tonight, this time I'll allow you to decide which part of me I'll use on you.'

I look up at him, still wary and waiting for him to say something else, but Mercer only looks back at me silently and as he holds my gaze, I try to fathom his expression, not sure if there is impatience, laughter or something else in his dark eyes. _As if he is daring me to leave,_ I think. _Or daring me to stay._

My heart beats nervously in my chest as I reach up and hold my hand out. Mercer lets go of the chain and he drops the key into my hand.

I hold it in my palm for a few moments, the metal cold against my hot skin, until a second later there comes a quiet thud when I throw the key aside and let it fall to the floor out of my reach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive any errors, I've been ill and my head hasn't been in the right place. And because of that, my weekly update plan has now gone to shit :(  
> Also all the smuttiness aside, I really need to give Rune a lovely happy ending. He's a darling and out of everyone, he deserves it the most, as I hope this chapter shows. Wren obviously has her own happy ending in store so she's off the table for Rune, and Saph just feels too obvious, so I was thinking Karliah...? Would you guys approve?! Or there's an OC I cut out of the Guild who is going to make an appearance at the DB Sanctuary and she might be an option... Hmmm, choices. In any case, I need something good to happen to Rune. The guy is a sweetheart.
> 
> As are you. I can't say it enough. I ❤ you all a hell of a lot for sticking with me here.


	13. Antidote To Poison

I wake up alone and chained by my ankle to the bed. My mind is disoriented for a moment, not recognising the room in which I have awoken, feeling an unfamiliar mattress and a warm tangle of sheets beneath me, and I am conscious of my naked body aching in ways I did not know possible and my mouth tasting of a man's pleasure.

With a rush of comprehension, I remember exactly what happened last night. _Although I can't remember how many times we fucked,_ I think, before my cheeks blush, even though I am alone and there is no one around to see my humiliation. _And how many times I begged and got on my knees and did everything Mercer wanted until he let me come._

I sit up quickly, the sound of the clinking chain at my feet distracting me from my uncomfortable thoughts; when I shuffle to the end of the bed and look down at my bound ankle, I see the iron cuff has dug a faint violet groove into my skin. I look around, scanning the room for the key to the shackles as I try to remember in which direction I threw it, but either Mercer picked it up or I successfully threw it far enough out of my reach and vision that I have no idea where it is. _That was what I wanted._

Now wanting nothing more than to get away from the Guildmaster's bed and all memory of everything that happened in it, I look around for my clothes, determined to retrieve my lockpicks from my pocket and break free of the shackles. I don't see them anywhere near the bed, despite remembering well enough how Mercer stripped me at the start of the night. My confusion quickly turns to anger when I eventually spot my clothes in a heap on Mercer's desk, and with a flush of irritation, I see the Guildmaster has left me a handful of lockpicks, similarly out of reach, laid tantalisingly on the desk on top of my trousers.

I get up from the bed and try to reach the desk, but with my ankle tethered to the bed frame, both my clothes and the way out of the shackles are just beyond the stretch of my fingers. Fury flashes through me as I sit back down on the edge of the bed and draw the sheets over my body as best I can, wondering what to do, having no desire to stay here naked and chained to the Guildmaster's bed and dreading the possibility of Mercer returning to find me still in this position. _Not because of what he might do, but because I don't trust myself anymore._

The thought is too uncomfortable to dwell on, and I force myself to focus on the task at hand. It hits me suddenly that I have once before broken out of somewhere I did not want to be, and I did not have any lockpicks then either.

I reach up to my hair and find most of my pins loosened and lost beneath the rough grip of Mercer's hands. I pull out one of the remaining slivers of metal and quickly set to work on the cuff at my ankle, thinking how long it has been since I used hair pins instead of lockpicks. _Those first few days at the Guild,_ I think, a curious flicker of longing inside me for a moment, though I cannot comprehend exactly what it is I long for.

The shackle soon gives way and with a flicker of triumph I free my ankle from its hold before getting up from the bed and crossing to the desk. I grab my clothes and dress myself hurriedly, resisting the urge to fill my pockets with the Guildmaster's gold and jewels that litter the desk's surface - though scattered seemingly without order, I've no doubt that he knows exactly how much is there. _And I've no doubt that he'd think of some way to make me pay for the theft._

Dressed and resolved never to return to this room again, much less repeat any of what happened during the time I have spent here, I head to the door and am unsurprised to find it locked.

Breaking through is no easier the second time around. Knowing my hair pins won't stand a chance, I use all but one of the lockpicks Mercer left on the desk.

 _He said he'd kill me for breaking in,_ I think a long while later, as the sound of the lock finally clicking open sends sharp relief racing through me. _He didn't say anything about breaking out._

I step out into the passageway and leave the door open behind me, hoping that one of the other guildmembers might walk in and make off with all of Mercer's gold. _Just like I should've done the first time I broke in here_ , I think, until I remember what Brynjolf said the night I joined the Guild, when he assured me that the guildmembers don't steal from the Guild or from each other. _And I expect no one else here is as stupid as I am to think about breaking into the Guildmaster's room anyway._

As I walk along the short passageway back to the Cistern, I try to tame my curls and make sure my hastily fastened clothes are not too crumpled from their night thrown on the floor. _Is it even still night, or is it day time?_ I wonder as I step into the main cavern, but my concern over just how long I spent in Mercer's bed is overshadowed by my sudden irritation when I see that half a dozen guildmembers are around the table in the kitchen and it hits me that I will not be able to make the nightshade tea that I need without everyone noticing. _And no one consumes a poisonous flower for fun,_ I think, fully aware that it would only take Thrynn making one casual comment about what he overheard last week to inform the entire Guild of what I was doing in the Guildmaster's room. The thought makes me flush with humiliation, having no desire for everyone to know how easily I submitted, not wanting the men of the Guild to think like Thrynn and assume I am willing to warm their beds or be chained to them, but I force myself to remember that none of them could possibly know exactly what occurred within the Guildmaster's room. _For all Thrynn knows, Mercer was the one bound in shackles and begging me for it._

The thought makes me want to laugh and suddenly I feel my mood brighten a little, if only for the satisfaction that I would get from seeing Mercer Frey on his knees before me. _I know I'll never cut his throat like I did the Argonian,_ I think, _but I can at least try to imagine the Guildmaster begging me to touch him._

My mood improves even more when I realise the Guildmaster is nowhere to be seen, and none of my fellow guildmembers pay me any attention, much less seem to notice that I've come from the direction of Mercer's room. Preferring not to be here when he returns, I decide to spend what's left of the day above ground and scope out a few suitable houses to rob. _And collect the necessary ingredients from the graveyard,_ I think as I cross over to my bed to gather my things, hoping that by the time I return the Cistern will be empty and I can brew the tea in peace.

When I get ready to leave and I lift my satchel onto my shoulder a short while later, the heaviness of the contents confuses me for a moment until I realise I'm still carrying around the book I stole from the Temple of Mara. Wanting to rid myself of the book and the memories it bears, I head to the Flagon and settle at a table near Tonilia's usual corner to wait for the Redguard to show up.

The tavern is deserted, save for a small cluster of hooded figures in one of the dark corners and the usual suspects at the bar, although I notice Delvin is in the middle of a transaction with an unfamiliar golden-haired female Bosmer - even from a distance, I realise that the wood elf's assortment of items are stained with what is unmistakably blood. The way Delvin grins and the pretty Bosmer laughs at whatever he is saying, they seem like old friends and that this is no out-of-the-ordinary exchange.

I decide the less I know about it the better. As I wait for Tonilia, I pull out my stolen book and flick idly through the pages. Soon I discover that it is a healing spell tome, and I'm about to throw it aside, having no skill much less any interest in the magickal arts, when suddenly I wonder if I shouldn't try to learn the spell after all. _It might come in handy when I finally find myself facing Astrid,_ I think, feeling a flutter of fear in my stomach, well aware that the woman must have risen to the leadership of an assassins' guild by being an expert in the art of murder and pain, and that just managing to survive an encounter with her would be impressive enough.

 _There will be a time when she is vulnerable,_ I remind myself as the hollow feeling of dread inside me intensifies. _And I just have to be close to her when that time comes._

As I read, I soon come to the conclusion that the spell tome is for novices, teaching little beyond the mending of surface wounds, to knit torn flesh and repair bruised skin, yet even the relative simplicity of the spell leaves me confused and it's not long before my frustration rises and I snap the book closed before shoving it back into my satchel, wondering just how I am ever going to defend myself against Astrid, much less succeed in killing her.

Frustrated, I look up to see the Bosmer seems to have left the Ragged Flagon and Delvin is drinking alone. _At least thieving can give me a sense of accomplishment,_ _and the shadows are more familiar than spells._

'Well, well,' the old thief says, when I approach him at the bar a few moments later. 'Nice of you to stop by, sweetheart.' He grins before he takes a drink from his tankard. 'Wondered if you might've abandoned us for good.'

'I could never abandon you, Delvin,' I say lightly, as I take the seat beside him and I throw down a few coins for Vekel. 'Have you missed me?'

'Aye, that I did, darlin',' he says. 'This place is always brighter with you around.' After Vekel has handed me my wine, Delvin holds out his tankard to him for a refill. 'You're back in one piece without a trail of guards behind you, so I take it your Brotherhood contract was a success?'

I don't ask how he knew I even had a contract to complete, let alone that being the reason I was away from the Guild. _For all I know, Astrid is in regular contact with Delvin as well as Mercer,_ I realise, remembering what the old thief had told me about his relationship with the assassin.

'It was,' I answer briskly, not wanting to discuss it any further and feeling at a distinct disadvantage, realising that they all know far more than I do.

Delvin seems to get the hint and thankfully doesn't pursue the topic. 'Glad to hear it, sweetheart. And is it business or pleasure you want with me today?' He gives me a roguish grin. 'For once, give me the answer I want to hear, eh?'

'I'm too light in the pockets for pleasure, Delvin, I can barely afford this wine,' I say sweetly, meaning it, well aware that my week in the rented room at the God's Tap has drained far more of my gold than I'd like. 'I'm here for work, if you've got anything going.'

'Ah. Can't help you there, I'm afraid,' he says. 'Jobs have been drying up and our regular clients have been less forthcoming since that disaster at Goldenglow.' Delvin grimaces, and I don't have to ask why, knowing well enough the story of how the job ended in blood and with a guildmember on the gallows for murder. 'I've only had a few small-scale ventures come my way and they're already taken, sweetheart. Unless you fancy doing a little fishing for me, I'm all out of work for the minute.'

Disappointment cuts through me, knowing my skill in pickpocketing is poor and my success is entirely reliant on the drunkenness of the mark. _I don't have Brynjolf's skilled fingers_ , I think, but that thought only turns my disappointment over not having any work into a sudden and desperate desire just to get above ground and away from the Cistern.

'Well, if you get anything, keep me in mind, would you?' I say to Delvin, finishing my wine in one go and standing up.

'Aye, love, you can count on that,' the old thief says with another grin.

I leave him to it and head back to the Cistern, feeling a strange and unexpected sense of uncertainty in my stomach as I start to wonder what I will do if the Guild no longer has a place for me. _Where would I even go?_ I think, remembering how I was going to leave the city the night I escaped Honorhall but with no real idea where I was headed. I realise that I still have no idea, that I know no other city but Riften, that I have nothing else but this. _I have the Dark Brotherhood_ _now_ _,_ I think, but that thought sends a chill through me, and the feeling of uncertainty lingers as I am forced to remember the fact that I don't even know where the Sanctuary is and that the only link I have with the Brotherhood is Astrid, who may or may not ever contact me again.

Reluctant to think on any of it further, I'm relieved when I run into Rune and Niruin back in the Cistern and the dark blond thief tells me they're heading to the Bee and Barb. When he suggests I join them, I agree wholeheartedly, more than tempted to drown my uncertainty in another few cups of wine. When I step out of the tomb with them a few minutes later and find the graveyard bathed in a dim dusk, I realise that the day is already over. _And that I spent far longer in Mercer's bed than I imagined._

That thought, coupled with the familiar and overwhelming scent of nightshade, forces me to remember what I must do. _I can drink wine afterwards, to get rid of the taste,_ I tell myself as I walk with Niruin and Rune through the city, and when we're within sight of the tavern a little while later, I tell the thieves I have business to take care of and I'll catch them up inside. I don't give them time to question me before I head across the marketplace in the direction of the western canals, where I know I'll find an alchemist's store in the street just before the lower walkways. _Maven Black-Briar's daughter works there,_ I think, remembering my first few days of lessons from Delvin and Vex, when they taught me which places in Riften I could steal from and which were protected by the Guild. _I learnt those lessons fast enough, at least._

To be so near the canals once more unnerves me, but I force myself to keep moving and focus on the reality. _Would I rather be here right now or presenting the Guildmaster with his child in nine months?_ The terrifying thought spurs me on and I arrive at Elgrim's Elixirs just as a dark-haired young woman in robes is locking the door.

'I'm sorry,' I say as I rush up to her. 'I need to buy something.' Before she can open her mouth, I pull out my coin purse from my pocket. 'I've got money. Please, it's urgent.'

The woman's gaze flickers down quickly to the purse before she looks back at me. 'Urgent?' she says, her arched brows rising higher. 'Well, what is it you need?'

I falter, not sure how to ask for what I really need. 'I'm looking for a nightshade potion,' I say.

'Nightshade?' she repeats, curiosity brightening her pale eyes, and I realise she must think I mean to poison someone.

 _I suppose she's right._ 'I don't want a child,' I blurt out awkwardly, not wanting to get into the details nor dwell on the thought.

Comprehension dawns on the woman's face and she turns back to the door. 'I can help you there,' she says softly as she unlocks the store. 'Come in. Just keep your voice down. Master Elgrim's asleep upstairs and he says he's had enough of me working through the night.'

I'm more than content to stay silent as I put my coin purse back in my pocket and follow her into the store, my head swimming a little as I take a breath of the air and taste dozens of scents fighting for precedence. Crystal jars and wooden boxes stuffed full of ingredients fill many of the shelves around the small room, while other cupboards and shelves are crowded with countless vials of varying shapes and sizes and contents.

The woman hums quietly under her breath as she quickly gathers a few ingredients before heading behind the counter to an alchemy work table. Her hands move too fast for me to study what she's doing as she grounds the ingredients into a paste before diluting it with some sweet-smelling liquid and tipping the contents into a small cup.

'Drink,' she says, putting it on the counter before me.

I take the cup and bring the potion to my lips. It is far more pleasant than the nightshade tea, the liquidy concoction flowery and vaguely honey-like, though at the back of my throat I taste the familiar bitter tang that by now I know well enough to be the deadly plant.

'It always amuses me,' the woman murmurs suddenly. 'Pluck the flower growing beside the nightshade and the poison turns into an antidote.' Her gaze meet mine, her pale eyes unblinking. 'The child would grow strong and healthy, and all because of a single petal chosen differently.' She laughs softly. 'Isn't the world ironic like that. Life and death growing next to each other... all it takes is our fingers stretching a few inches in the other direction and plucking the wrong flower.' Her thin lips curve into a smile. 'Or the right one.'

Her words unnerve me and I feel a shiver race down my spine, but before I can even think of a response, she takes the cup from my hands.

'I can make you up some extra,' she says. 'It retains its potency for several weeks, more if you keep it under moonlight.'

I hesitate, although I'm confident she isn't aware of how loaded her question is. _Do I want this again?_

The realisation that I'm even hesitating makes enough unease rise in me that I answer quickly and firmly. 'No,' I say, even as some part of me knows that I'll taste nightshade again. 'Thanks, though.' I reach into my pocket and bring out my coin purse. 'How much do I owe you?'

'What you've got there will suffice,' she says, eyeing my purse with a small sly smile at her mouth. 'For out of hours services, you understand.'

 _This is Maven's daughter, all right,_ I think as I reluctantly hand over my entire coin purse, knowing I am being overcharged but finding myself willing to pay the price.

'Pleased to be of assistance,' the dark-haired woman says, slipping my coin purse into a pocket of her robes swiftly. 'Do visit again if you have need of me.'

'Thank you,' I say, although I have no desire or intention to return. _I'd rather keep my gold and just not make the same mistakes again._

Outside, the air is heavy and close with another storm, although a chill seems to follow me as I walk back to the Bee and Barb. I'm relieved when I enter the warm crowded tavern and find Rune and Niruin settled at a table in the corner with a bottle of wine already open for me. With no more money in my pockets, I promise to pay them back tomorrow, and soon the wine takes away the taste in my mouth and I soon forget all about the alchemist and my reason for visiting her.

  
*

 

The hours slip by in a comfortable haze, and as the drink takes its effect, I let myself get lost beneath the noise and warmth of the Bee and Barb. Niruin provides more than enough entertainment, as he tries to persuade Rune to support his business venture and help him start a brothel in the Cistern. I listen to their conversation, agreeing with Rune's point that such an enterprise would only draw more attention to the Guild, but also understanding Niruin's counter argument that considering the Guild's poor fortunes recently, at least we could rely on the whores to always bring in the coin.

 _Maybe that is my next calling after thief and assassin,_ I think, before somewhere in the back of my mind I remember that I have already had my body sold for coin. _But that was_ _not_ _a calling, and I saw none of the profits from it._ I drown the thought with half a cup of wine and try to ignore the rest of the thieves' conversation.

Some time later, the Bosmer spots a pretty woman on the other side of the room and declares he won't be returning to the Guild tonight. In his haste to get up from the table and engage the woman's services before another man reaches her, the Bosmer knocks over Rune's bottle of mead and the drink spills all over me. In my wine-induced haze, I barely notice, but Rune insists on giving me his jacket, which is when I realise I'm too drunk to remember exactly when I took off my own jacket and it hits me that I have had more than enough wine for the night.

With Niruin now occupied, I suggest to Rune that we head back to the Cistern. The dark blond thief is quick enough to get to his feet and oblige my request. In the small hours of the morning and with the rain still holding off, the streets are teeming with sellers, buyers and revellers of all variety, and I'm suddenly glad that I am not alone and that Rune can hold his drink better than I can. I keep close to him as we walk through the city to the graveyard, the cool night air clearing my head somewhat, but I only start to feel at ease once we are walking along the passageway and the familiar sound of water reaches my ears.

After Rune unlocks the door, we find the Cistern completely deserted - or so I think until I spy the Guildmaster at his desk, and I quickly understand why the other guildmembers have made themselves scarce.

Even without going near him, I can tell Mercer is in a vicious mood. His jacket is thrown messily at the edge of his desk beside two bottles, one empty and the other half-drunk. His dark brow is lowered and his eyes narrowed as he pores furiously over a map, trailing the tip of one of his golden daggers over the parchment, until suddenly he cuts the map in half, swearing under his breath as he tosses aside the dagger and reaches for the half-empty bottle.

'The Flagon?' Rune murmurs, clearly as aware as I am that being near the Guildmaster right now is a bad idea.

 _But so is comprising myself with any more wine,_ I think, not wanting to stumble out of the Flagon drunk and not in control of myself - and stumble right into the path of Mercer and his foul temper.

'I'm just going to go to bed,' I say, longing for a peaceful night in my own bed, finding myself unable to remember the last time I slept well and dreamlessly. 'And thanks to Niruin, I need to wash this mead off me,' I add to Rune, feeling my shirt sticking to my skin.

Not one to argue with my decisions, the thief leaves me at my bed and heads into the Ragged Flagon while I gather some clean clothes from my chest. I take the longer way back across the Cistern to the water room, staying as far from Mercer's desk as possible. For once, however, the Guildmaster seems uninterested in bothering me or even acknowledging my presence; he doesn't even look up from his desk as he screws up one torn half of his map and throws it to the floor.

More than content to be ignored, I lock myself securely in the water room and strip off my mead-sodden clothes before freeing my hair from its remaining pins. When I walk across the grates to stand under the open pipe and the warm water rushes over my body, I cannot help a sigh of pleasure from the sensation.

 _I'll miss this, if I ever leave the Guild,_ I think as I tilt my head back and close my eyes under the flow, remembering the icy baths in the rusty copper tub at the orphanage before my mind pushes the thought aside and instead I start to wonder how the Dark Brotherhood members clean their stained hands and bodies after a day's work. _Maybe they don't bother,_ I think. _Maybe they bathe in blood at the Sanctuary._

I splash water on my face to sober myself up faster, not liking my thoughts, not wanting to think where I have come from or where I might find myself one day. _If I could stay in this moment forever, where there is no past or future, I would._ I stand still beneath the water for a long time, listening to the familiar rushing noise, feeling my heart lose some of its pain.

The sound of the door closing startles me out of the fragile moment and my heart jolts as I open my eyes to find the Guildmaster inside the room. He locks the door and tucks what I presume to be lockpicks into his pocket before he turns around.

Without so much as a glance my way, Mercer leans down and starts to pull off his boots.

'There's a lock on that door for a reason,' I say angrily, stepping back and out from under the flow of the water, covering my wet naked body as best I can with my hands, not wanting to turn my back to him and knowing he is closer to my clothes than I am.

He ignores me as he kicks his boots aside and his hands rip loose the ties of his shirt.

'Get out, Mercer,' I say sharply, although by now I'm hardly surprised when he doesn't listen to my demand.

'I'm not in the mood to play,' he says as he lifts his shirt up and over his head. His voice is clipped and hard at the edges, the sound setting my body on edge - and I see the tension in his own body, the muscles of his bare shoulders taut as he throws his shirt to the ground next to his boots.

'Maybe I'm not in the mood for you,' I snap, tightening my arms around me, feeling cold as I stand naked and no longer under the warmth of the water, fury and fear striking through me at him breaking in here.

 _Not only_ _fury_ _and fear,_ I realise, conscious that the quickness of my heartbeat anticipates something other than danger, knowing what he wants and how little he cares for my protests. _And how little I care to protest once he starts._

Mercer ignores me, and I find myself sober enough to remember how I woke up earlier and not wanting to repeat the experience of being at his mercy. 'Do you know what a locked door means?' I try again as he starts to unfasten his trousers and I do my best to ignore the tentative desire inside me.

'I said I'm not in the fucking mood for your games,' Mercer snarls. 'And you want to talk about locked doors, do you, little slut?'

He pulls off his trousers and finally looks at me properly; it's then that I notice the vicious fire burning in his dark eyes as he looks me up and down, and I realise he's angrier than I've ever seen him. What faint desire I had vanishes beneath the intense fear that I'm alone with him and I have nowhere to go, and I suddenly realise that he intends me to take the brunt of his anger.

'Now we're even,' he says quietly before he walks towards me.

'Fuck off,' I say, backing away to the wall too fast - my feet slip over the wet stone grates and I stumble, my ankle twisting painfully under me as I try to right myself.

Mercer is in front of me before I've found my footing and his strong hands grab my waist. 'Just shut the fuck up,' he says before he turns me around roughly and shoves me closer to the wall.

I struggle against his hold but he grips me easily at my waist while his other hand slides up my back and he pushes down hard, bending me over. I reach out and clutch at one of the pipes that run along the wall to keep my balance as Mercer presses up behind me, his cock already hard and jutting against my ass.

'Why don't women ever learn their fucking place?' he mutters as his knee goes between my legs to push them apart. 'Do you think you can cross me too, little bird? You think you can fucking outsmart me?'

Not understanding his words or his anger, I don't have time to think of an answer as Mercer pulls back my hips and in one swift motion he roughly thrusts his cock inside me.

Wet from the water but not from desire, the pain cuts through my body fiercer than before. I cry out loudly and struggle to straighten up from my prone position, but Mercer's arms are stronger than my whole body - his hold on my hip tightens while his other hand moves to press hard between my shoulder blades, forcing me to stay bent over as he withdraws himself.

'But you wouldn't be clever enough to think of outsmarting me, would you?' he says before he immediately slams deep into me again and I gasp with the pain, my arms buckling as they brace against the wall. 'You're not even clever enough to realise this is all you're good for.'

'You fucking-' My words get cut off beneath my cry as Mercer repeats his effort.

'Watch yourself, slut,' he says, his fingers digging painfully into my hips to hold me in place as I try to writhe away from him. 'You don't realise how easy it would be to just take you whenever and however I want.' I hear the Guildmaster make a quiet cold laugh as he pulls out of me. 'That night you stumbled out half asleep in your wet little shirt, remember that?' His hand slides down my back and he takes a rough hold of my hips with both his hands. 'I was going to bend you over your bed and fuck you so hard they'd hear you screaming in the Flagon.'

He demonstrates just how hard he would've fucked me, and I cry out loudly, bracing my arms against the force of his thrust.

'Louder than that, little bitch,' he says, and I hear his groan of effort as he slams hard into me again, and then again.

I scream louder with each of his thrusts as he sets a brutal pace, almost falling forwards into the wall with his force, but his grip on my body is unyielding as ever and he keeps a firm hold of me exactly where he wants me.

 _And I wanted this,_ I think desperately, remembering how I begged for it last night and the times before, my body now begging for my pleasure to overtake the pain.

I close my eyes and hear my keen cry echo in the damp wet corners of the room, the sound louder than the rushing water. _A familiar sound,_ I think, the echo of my moan provoking some memory in my body - and then suddenly my body starts to react as it did last night, when it begged, when it wanted, when it submitted; my back arches of its own volition, my ass pushing back to meet the Guildmaster's thrusts, and my blood races hot through me, no longer afraid, already knowing the pain he can cause and aware that every inch of me would rather feel whatever pleasure it can.

 _I want it,_ I think, convincing myself better than anyone else ever could. _I want this._

If at any point Mercer notices that my moans of discomfort are mixed with gasps of pleasure, his only reaction is to fuck me rougher and make me scream louder. My hands grip the pipe in front of me and I try to steel my arms, feeling his hips hitting against my ass faster and harder, knowing he is near to his satisfaction.

One of his hands slides up my spine to grip the back of my neck as he leans over me, and with several violent thrusts and a hitched groan, he comes swiftly and hard, driving his cock deep inside me as his fingers dig into my neck with his final thrust.

My own gratification is far from reached but the thought of satisfying my need disappears from my mind when a moment later Mercer pulls out of me abruptly, the sensation making me whimper with the soreness between my legs, the pain rushing back to exceed what pleasure I might have momentarily enjoyed.

I use the pipe to pull myself upright and steady my shaking legs as Mercer walks away and I hear him stand under the water. I turn around to face him, some small dull part of me begging mindlessly for a release until I shut the feeling down, having no desire to go near the Guildmaster, let alone get on my knees and plead. My body sore and shivering, I draw my arms close around me as I realise I have to walk past him to get out of the room. Although some of his anger is now noticeably worked out, the tension remains in his broad scarred shoulders and there is only ice in his dark eyes when he notices me watching him.

'Fuck off, Wren,' Mercer says as he turns sideways under the water, tilting his head beneath the flow before running his hands through his short dark hair. 'I'm done with you.'

The cold sarcastic tone of his voice makes fury flare in me, not only at him but also at myself for even feeling a flicker of enjoyment from what just happened. _He can take me however and whenever he likes,_ I think with a bitter sense of despair. _And I let him._

'I hope whoever outsmarted you cuts your throat,' I snap viciously as I stalk past him towards the heap of my clothes. _I'd love to help them do it._

He snorts with laughter but fortunately doesn't reach out for me as I pass him. 'Settle down, little slut, you'll get yours later if you don't test my patience.' I feel his gaze lingering on my body as I hurriedly dry off and start to dress myself. 'And the bitch didn't outsmart me,' Mercer adds quietly. 'I'll find her. And I'm going to do far more to that fucking whore than cut her throat.'

With his words, I realise that the sarcasm in the Guildmaster's voice has vanished and there is only cold hard danger. A shiver passes through me, one that I know I cannot ignore or smother beneath desire and pleasure.

 _H_ _e said_ _he'd think of a more inventive way of killing me than slitting my throat_ _if_ _I ever cross_ _ed_ _him,_ I remember, although I desperately wish I didn't.

Feeling a chill set inside me, I don't speak or turn to look at him as I finish dressing, my fear silencing my anger. Fortunately, Mercer seems similarly disinclined to speak to me again as I bundle up my old clothes and unlock the door, although I feel his hard gaze on my back, even after I've stepped out into the Cistern.

I'm half tempted to leave the door wide open to make Mercer have to walk over and shut it himself, but I realise that keeping as many closed doors between myself and the Guildmaster is the wiser thing to do. _Although he's already proven that locked doors won't stop him from_ _taking_ _what he wants,_ I think, before the uncomfortable thought hits me that I started this, that I broke into his room first and ended up begging him for it. _I chose this, didn't I?  
_

I slam the door behind me, wishing I could hit Mercer with as much force. _O_ _r myself, to knock some sense into me,_ I think, but I find I have no time to feel my regret or fear, as I look across the Cistern and realise Sapphire is sitting cross-legged on the end of my bed.

At the sound of the door slamming, the raven-haired thief looks up and her eyes meet mine.

I freeze, caught off-guard for a moment. Then my mind replays our awkward goodbye with keen regret and suddenly I realise how stupid I was to be jealous and how foolish I was to care. _Can I be hurt that she wanted Brynjolf, and he wanted her?_ I think, knowing she deserves to feel safe and wanted, to feel pleasure after what she endured in her past. _And maybe I don't,_ a quiet voice whispers in my ear, reminding me of the unjustified blood on my hands and the paths I have chosen to walk.

In that moment, however, I'm surprised when I find it easy to push aside everything except for the intense relief that Sapphire is back and safe. _Nothing else matters,_ I think, as I walk across the Cistern and come to stand beside my bed, realising just how much I missed her.

'Rune said you were going to bed,' Sapphire says before I can even speak. 'I wanted to see you before you went to sleep, to make sure you were... all right.'

I recognise the familiar wariness in her eyes, as if she doesn't know I will react to her concern. Suddenly I cannot help but wonder whether she heard my screams from the water room. Feeling my cheeks start to flush, I force the possibility from my mind, convincing myself that the sound of the rushing water drowned out whatever she might have otherwise overheard.

I drop my bundle of clothes on the floor beside my bed and sit down beside her, trying to ignore the ache between my legs as I do so. 'You know you don't have to worry about me, Saph,' I say lightly, smiling. 'I was more concerned about you. I hear Solitude's a big place, I'm just glad you didn't get hopelessly lost up there.'

A smile pulls at her mouth and her hazel eyes crinkle up. 'It's nice to hear you had faith in me,' she says.

'Well, it sounds like you didn't need my faith anyway,' I point out. 'The job was a success, I hear.' I raise an eyebrow. 'Whatever the job actually was. Something about a double-crossing agent?'

Sapphire shrugs. 'I had to steal a few things to bribe him to talk, but I don't know much else or what he actually said. Brynjolf handled it.'

 _Bryn, yes, Bryn._ I force the sound of her moaning his name out of my head and stop myself wondering how many more times she made those same sounds on their trip together. 'Where is he?' I ask casually. 'Or did he actually get lost in Solitude?'

'He's in his room.' Something flickers in her eyes, although I cannot read it. 'You should go see him,' she says. 'He'd like to know you're all right.'

I try to think of something to say, but suddenly faced with the prospect of seeing the auburn-haired thief again, of speaking with him and being near to him again, I feel nerves flutter in my stomach and my mind races too fast for me to come up with a reply.

Yet I barely have a chance to say anything anyway, as from the corner of my eye I see the water room door open and Mercer walks out, before he slams the door shut behind him and strides through the Cistern in the direction of his room.

My heart jumps painfully when Sapphire glances over to him at the sound of the slamming door. A moment later, her gaze flickers back to me, confusion in her hazel eyes for a few seconds until some comprehension seems to dawn on her and her expression turns to one of shock.

When I realise she has come to the most likely conclusion from the fact that the Guildmaster and I were alone in the water room together, I feel a blush stalk up my neck, not knowing what to say or how to deny it or explain it to her, knowing she would never understand. _How could she understand the part of me that wants it despite the humiliation?_ I wonder, barely able to understand it myself and not wanting her to think less of me because of it, much less wanting to admit to anyone how easily and willingly I submit to a man like Mercer Frey.

I quickly draw my arms across my body and force my expression to remain carefree. 'So did you at least bring me back anything nice?' I say jokingly.

My question makes Sapphire jump and her surprised expression vanishes, seemingly realising that I have no intention to try to explain what the Guildmaster was doing in the water room with me.

'I did,' she answers, before she gets up and without another word crosses the Cistern to her own bed, where she retrieves something from the messy pile of clothes thrown there. When she returns to me, Sapphire stands in front of me and holds out a parcel. 'For you,' she says awkwardly, not sitting back down.

'I didn't actually expect you to get me something, Saph,' I tell her, but she only shrugs and waits for me to take the parcel.

I do, and I pull apart the parchment wrapping to find a mass of folded silk, the colour so deep a violet it seems almost black and the texture so soft it feels like water beneath my fingers. Gently I pull the silk free and the material falls into the shape of a dress, a slender simple style without trim or elaborate decoration, but the beauty and expense of the material is undeniable.

'Saph...' I start, my words faltering as my hands slip over the soft silk, almost too scared to touch it in case my clumsy fingers tear it. 'This must have cost you a fortune.'

She shrugs again. 'The materials were free. And as for the tailor's time, well, I... convinced him that making the dress would be in his best interests.'

I don't ask how she convinced the tailor, knowing Sapphire would've chosen physical violence and threats over any more persuasive methods. _She'd never get on her knees and beg._ 'Well, thank you,' I say awkwardly, wishing I was better with words and knew how to make someone understand my appreciation. As I did with Rune, I resort to an easy smile. 'But when am I ever going to wear it? We don't exactly have many grand masquerades or balls down here, you know.'

The thief laughs, the rare sound sweet to my ears. 'I know. But you said you always wanted to be a princess in a fancy silk dress. Now you're at least halfway there.' She smiles. 'I couldn't get you a tiara, though.'

Although I smile back, something catches painfully in my heart. _A princess, like in the stories I used to tell Lily at Honorhall, when she was stuck in her nightmares._ And then suddenly I think of my own nightmares, the first one in particular, the night a man promised a small girl as many tiaras as she liked and a woman forgot to tell her a bedtime story, before they left her forever to sleep bleeding in front of a dying fire.

'It's beautiful,' I say, looking down as I careful fold the dress back up, swallowing to soothe my inexplicably dry throat. 'Thank you.'

'Don't mention it,' Sapphire says carelessly, although when I finally look up, I see relief in her eyes. She hesitates, and for a moment I think she's going to say something else, but if she was, she changes her mind. 'Anyway, I'll let you sleep.' The thief gives me another smile. 'Catch me up on everything tomorrow?'

'Sure,' I say easily, not feeling guilty for the lie, knowing I could never find enough words to explain everything to her. _The Guildmaster is one thing. I have murdered two people since Sapphire left and I've realised_ _I have no idea how many more I will kill before this ends_ _._

The raven-haired thief leaves and returns to her own bed while I safely store the silk dress in my chest. Quickly I take off my boots and jacket and curl up in my bed beneath the sheets, burying myself physically as I try to do the same to the thoughts in my mind.

I fail. My wet hair drips cold down my neck and back, making me shiver as I think about all the things I never wanted to think about again, my thoughts circling painfully unti I realise that sleep is unlikely as turning back time.

At some point, I hear the sound of the Flagon door opening and a few guildmembers enter the Cistern, their footsteps cautious until they discover that the Guildmaster is no longer around. It's not long before the sounds of their talking and laughter confirms what I already knew and I sit up in bed, knowing for certain that I will not sleep. I retrieve the spell book from under my bed and read as best I can by the dim light, but the words make even less sense to me in the middle of the night with my mind distracted and uneasy and my body still sore from Mercer's anger. I quickly throw the book aside, thinking how useful the spell would be if only I could learn it.

I look around the Cistern, half-tempted to get up, pack my satchel and leave again, but fully aware that it is not the place but my own thoughts that I want to run from. My gaze falls upon Sapphire asleep in her bed and I remember what she said.

 _Brynjolf is back,_ I think, realising with a jolt that I just could get up and knock on his door and ask him to make me feel as safe as he made Sapphire feel. _I could ask him to_ _try and_ _make me moan louder than anyone else could._

I suddenly realise that that thought terrifies me more than if I knocked on Mercer's door and asked him to chain me to his bed again. _At least I know what_ _I will get on the other side of that door._ The idea of standing vulnerable and exposed before Brynjolf sends fear racing through me – and yet in that moment, I find that I am more afraid of being alone with nothing but my memories and pain than I am of being vulnerable or at another's mercy.

Before I know what I am doing, I get up from my bed and walk through the Cistern, glancing towards the guildmembers over in the kitchen, but they are arguing over who would've won the last hand of cards if no one had cheated and they pay me no mind.

My bare feet hesitant and cold on the stone floor, I linger near to the first passageway that leads off the Cistern, suddenly unsure of where I am going, but before I can even question myself, I walk down to the door and knock once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive the massive delay in updating! Aside from 6 day weeks at work (*cries*) and just generally feeling exhausted and sad, last week I dedicated a lot of my free time to falling in love with Kaidan... *melts* if you mod Skyrim, go get him. Now. Thank me later. Just promise me you'll come back to Mercer and Brynjolf eventually ;)  
> Anyway, I hope you managed to get through this (yet another) rambly monster chapter! And hopefully you survived the rather more dub-con smut... although actually there is far worse coming up in a few chapters... what is my life.


	14. Disadvantaged

When the door opens and the Guildmaster looks down at me, I feel a shiver down my spine and I quickly draw my arms around my body, part of me wishing desperately that I had been brave enough to knock on the other door. _I don't think I ever will be,_ I think, realising that I am more inclined to sacrifice my dignity rather than my heart.

I look up at Mercer. Shirtless and looking as if he has run his hand through his dark hair more than once, he appears to have slept as little as I have, although I doubt I'm the one that's kept him awake. There is ink on his hands, as if he has been writing furiously, and while his eyes still simmer with a dangerous fire, I can tell he is nowhere near as angry as he was before.

His eyes move over me too, and I see the familiar smirk pull at his mouth, but he says nothing as he stands in the threshold with one hand still on the door, waiting for me to speak.

_Waiting for me to admit why I am here._

'Can I come in?' I ask, barely believing the question out of my mouth.

Mercer raises an eyebrow. 'For what, Wren?'

'You know what,' I say shortly, reluctant to give him the satisfaction of admitting to him exactly what I want.

'No, I don't,' Mercer says. 'If you want something from me, little bird, you're going to have to be specific. There's a lot of things I could do to you and not all of them you'd enjoy.'

I look up at him for a few long moments before I realise I have to yield. _This is why I'm here, after all,_ I remind myself, well aware that what I want comes at a price. 'Fuck me,' I say.

The Guildmaster laughs, no hint of surprise in his expression, although amusement glitters bright in his dark eyes. 'Oh, you want it now, do you?' His eyes flicker over me again, slowly, taking in the shape of my body beneath my clothes. 'Maybe I'm not in the mood for you,' he says, mimicking my voice as he echoes my words of a few hours earlier.

I don't shy away from the pointed weight of his gaze, nor the memory of how hard he took me in the water room. 'I know you are,' I say. 'And I'm asking you.' I tighten my arms around my body, digging my fingers into my sides, focusing on that feeling rather than the words out of my mouth. 'Please.'

'Was that _please?_ ' he says with a mocking laugh. 'Already? You know, as much as I enjoy the sound of you begging, it's more entertaining when you try to pretend not to want it.'

I do not reply, knowing how much he enjoys my submission in any form, whether I am on my knees begging or he has me bent over and screaming.

A few seconds of silence pass, my discomfort growing with every passing moment under his derisive gaze, but fortunately Mercer doesn't seem interested in toying with me for very long. 'At least you seem to have learnt you're prettier when you're not talking,' he says finally as he steps back from the doorway and turns away into his room.

I take that for an invitation to enter and I follow him inside, closing the door behind me. I wait near the foot of his bed, but Mercer returns to his desk, where he picks up a quill and makes a few quick notes on a slip of parchment. Under the dancing light of the candles burning there, I notice the desk is spread with maps and scribbled documents.

'Trying to track down the person who outsmarted you?' I say tauntingly, unable to resist, half-wanting to provoke him into anger to make him take me faster.

But his anger has already been sated at my expense tonight and he only scoffs, not even turning around as he continues to write. 'That's beyond your concern, Wren,' he says. 'Now do you want to stand here talking and wasting my time or is there something better you could be doing?'

I realise what he means and I start to undress quickly, not wanting to waste any time talking to him either. _I've already made it clear what I'm here for._ At the sound of my shirt falling to the floor a few moments later, I see Mercer smirk as he returns the quill to the inkpot before he turns around and leans back against the edge of his desk to watch me undress.

Realising that I now have his attention and not sure whether I want it, I don't look at him as I raise my hands to my chest. My fingers are clumsy with the laces of my binding, remembering the last and only time I have willingly unfastened it for a man. _Astride the Dunmer, when I was imagining he was Brynjolf._

I ignore my thoughts as surely as I ignore the way the Guildmaster's gaze moves over my body as I strip myself of my clothes. My hands hesitate at the ties of my trousers until my mind disconnects and I quickly rid myself of my trousers and smallclothes. When I am completely naked, I force myself not to draw my arms around my body as I look across the room at Mercer, feeling a shiver run through me that has little to do with the exposure of my bare skin.

The Guildmaster makes a sound of quiet satisfaction in his throat. 'So eager to shed your feathers,' he says, folding his arms as he surveys me, his gaze moving languidly over my naked body, slower than ever before, somehow stripping me in a way beyond the removal of my clothes.

My arms instinctively long to cover my body from his penetrating gaze but I manage to resist, knowing I came here to let him do more than just look at me - and yet I have to take more than one deep breath to steady my uneasy heart when I'm sure at least a minute has passed and the weight of his gaze becomes almost too uncomfortable to bear. For a while, my sharp intakes of breath are the only sounds breaking the heavy silence.

'I wonder,' Mercer says finally, his voice soft as his eyes narrow in amusement. 'Just how badly does the little bird want to get off?'

I feel my heart skip faster with the danger in his words, but I don't have time to think of an answer as he points to the bed.

'Lie down,' he orders.

No longer feeling any desire to provoke him to anger, I obey and get onto the bed, the firm feather mattress now familiar beneath my body.

He opens a drawer of his desk and I hear the familiar clinking of chains. Just as he was in no mood to play earlier, I am in no mood to resist, and when he walks over and stands at the edge of the bed, I lift my hands above my head and let him bind my wrists to the bed frame behind me.

'Why do you even have these?' I cannot help asking as I hear the click of the shackle locks.

'For little sluts like you,' Mercer says as if it's obvious, looking down at me with amusement. 'Don't tell me you don't enjoy it.'

I choose not to reply, having little desire to talk with him or rise to his words as I know he hopes I will, just wanting him to hurry up and take off his trousers.

However, for once the Guildmaster seems to want to hear me speak.

'Since I have you here, I thought we could talk about your Dark Brotherhood contract,' he says, his tone easy and light as he walks away from the bed and leans back on the edge of his desk. 'You never told me who it was, did you?'

The abrupt change in topic startles me, as does his movement away from the bed, and I am confused for a moment until I manage to collect my thoughts.

'You read the last note Astrid sent me,' I say slowly, knowing he wouldn't have handed me the coin purse without opening the letter first. 'It was a woman at the Temple of Mara. Her name was Nelia.' I pause, remembering that night vividly, knowing I need more time before the memories will mercifully fade. 'And she's dead now.'

'Not that one, Wren,' Mercer says, one of his hands running idly over the edge of his desk. 'Your little secret contract. The one you broke in here to find information for, remember?'

I feel my heart flutter in warning. 'What secret contract?' I say, deciding to act like I have no recollection of what he is talking about, remembering that the last time I refused to give up the truth, he cut my clothes from my body. _And this time I'm already naked._

Mercer laughs. 'I'd say don't play stupid with me, but you're not playing, are you?' His hand brushes over one of his golden daggers lying on the desk. 'Look, as much as I find your games entertaining, it's nearly dawn and I've got more important things to do. So why don't you tell me who you're planning to kill and we can get on with this before I lose my patience.'

'I can't tell you,' I say, trying not to look at his hand on his dagger. 'Astrid will kill me if I do.'

Mercer inclines his head, the corners of his mouth turning up. 'And what if I kill you if you don't?' he says lightly, his fingers curling about the handle of the golden blade.

Suddenly, I feel the vulnerability of my position, lying flat and naked on his bed with my hands tied uselessly behind my head.

'I can't tell you,' I say again, although my voice is not nearly as strong now. Instinctively I shuffle my body slightly onto my side and bring my knees a little closer to my torso.

'Wren,' Mercer says warningly, and his hand closes around the handle of the dagger. 'Stay still and answer the question. Unless you want me to think of some other way of getting the information out of you?'

'Please, Mercer,' I say in a rush, my voice higher than normal as unease settles cold inside me, already knowing tonight how vicious he can be. 'Please, just... just fuck me.'

Mercer laughs. 'Gods, you're amusing. Don't worry, I'm going to fuck you, little bird, you're at least that much use to me. But I want some answers first. And depending on those answers, you might enjoy yourself or you might wish you'd never stepped foot into my Guild.' He picks up the dagger, toying with it in his hands, his dark eyes catching the light dangerously. 'Now don't make me ask you again,' he says quietly.

Cold fear cuts through my body and in my moment of panic, I race to think of a name to give him, one that he might believe. _An important person in Riften who someone else might want them killed,_ I think desperately, but only one name comes to my mind and I blurt it out before I can think whether it's the right lie or not.

'It's Maven,' I say quickly. 'I have to try to kill Maven Black-Briar, all right? That's why I was in here. I knew you'd have information on her, because you work for her.' At his silence, I hurry to continue, feeling a small flicker of relief that I managed to think of a vaguely reasonable lie. 'One of her business rivals wants her dead and Astrid told me to get information on her, to find out where she is vulnerable.'

I try to level my shallow breathing as Mercer surveys me, his expression closed and unreadable.

'I work for her, do I?' he repeats evenly after a few seconds, and I realise what I've said.

'I meant with her,' I correct myself fast, knowing how much the idea of working for a woman would offend the Guildmaster. 'You work with her.'

Mercer looks at me for several more seconds, my heart quickening at his silence, until he suddenly laughs a harsh laugh that makes me jump. 'You could've come up with a less stupid lie,' he says, laughter glinting in his eyes. 'If you were really going to try to kill Maven, did it not occur to you that I would kill you first?'

I stare at him. 'You'd kill me to protect Maven?' I ask slowly.

Mercer tosses his dagger back onto his desk with a snort of laughter. 'The fact you're even asking me that proves yet again just how empty that head of yours is. You think I'd choose a good fuck over a business partner with more money and influence than a little slut like you could ever have?' He laughs again as he stands up from his desk and his hands go to the fastenings of his trousers. 'Gods, you're stupid.'

'Oh, I get it now,' I say tauntingly before I can stop myself, irritation rising in me from the insults thrown so casually my way. 'Maybe you wish you had that old woman tied up in your bed instead of a stupid little slut like me. Maybe you like them sour and wrinkled.'

Fury flashes in his eyes and I know I've hit a nerve. _Maybe he does have a thing for Maven,_ I think, feeling a flicker of triumph that I have succeeded in wounding him.

Then Mercer smiles a cold smile and my sense of triumph withers as quickly as it came. 'At least Maven would be a challenge to bed,' he says, leaving his trousers ties unfastened as he folds his arms and his gaze moves over my naked body in derision. 'You're the easiest lay I've ever had, little bird, I only have to look at you for you to spread your legs and gush wet for me. Even whores are harder work than you, and I haven't even had to pay for your cunt.'

It's my turn for anger to flash through me and suddenly whatever desire I had to be here with him disappears. 'Unchain me,' I say abruptly, wriggling backwards onto the pillows and twisting my arms to bring my bound wrists around to the front of my body.

Mercer laughs. 'Oh, have you had enough?' he says mockingly. 'We haven't even started, Wren.'

'Unchain me,' I demand again, kneeling on the pillows as I pull against the chain keeping my wrists at the bed frame. 'I'm not doing this.'

'Don't get pissed off with me because you can't take the truth,' Mercer says in irritation. 'If you're going to act like a little slut, that's how I'm going treat you. Now, you still owe me an answer. Are you going to play nice and tell me the name of your contract? Or I suppose you'd rather I fuck the information out of you?'

'Unchain me,' I say for the third time. 'Now, you fucking bastard,' I add sharply to make my point.

Mercer sighs, although I can tell his enjoyment of the situation surpasses his irritation. 'Little bird,' he says softly as he unfolds his arms, his gaze flickering over my body. 'Sometimes I wonder if you'll ever learn.'

He pulls open the drawer of his desk and for one foolish moment I think he's going to retrieve the shackle keys. When he pulls out a thick strip of black fabric, I feel my heart tighten in my chest.

'Don't put that on me,' I say quickly, knowing what he intends.

'You can have this, or you can have this and a gag,' Mercer says as he walks to the bed. 'And how will you answer me without that little mouth of yours?'

'Don't,' I say again, trying to move backwards on my knees, but Mercer leans over and grabs my shoulder to keep me still, his grip no less unyielding than the shackles.

'Wren, don't waste my time,' he says, his voice edged with impatience. 'Unless you want me to teach you the lesson about what happens to little whores that don't do what they're told.'

I stop struggling, knowing that between the binds and the Guildmaster, I am going nowhere. _And_ _I have had enough of his_ _lessons,_ I think before Mercer releases my shoulder and all other thought gets pushed from my mind as he places the blindfold over my eyes.

The fabric is thick and prevents even the faintest candlelight getting through. As I feel Mercer knot the blindfold at the back of my head, my heart races at the sudden and utter darkness.

'That's better,' he says quietly, his hand lingering on my hair for a moment. 'Now lie down like a good girl.'

I obey, shuffling my body to lie flat on the bed and moving my hands above my head once more, hearing the chain clinking in the silence.

_And it is silent,_ I think a few moments later, realising that I cannot hear anything except the faint hiss of the candles burning and the quick sharpness of my breath as I struggle to steady my pounding heart. I try to listen for the Guildmaster, waiting to hear his footsteps or the rustle of material as he removes his trousers or the sound of his quiet laugh at my expense. When the silence endures and I have no idea where he is, much less what he's doing, my sense of unease only increases.

The seconds crawl by into what feels like hours, the silence overwhelming, until I cannot bear it any longer.

'Mercer?' I say nervously, starting to panic, half wondering if he has gone and left me incapacitated here for good - until I remember that he is a master thief and more than capable of remaining undetected, and my fear grows abruptly when I realise I have no way of knowing where he is or what he is doing, let alone have any way of defending myself.

Suddenly, I feel the touch of cool metal on my bare stomach and I flinch violently as the flat of a dagger presses against my navel.

'I wouldn't move, little bird,' Mercer says softly from somewhere close to my left, the sound of his voice so near to me making me jump, not realising he was standing right beside the bed. 'Unless you want my hand to slip and accidentally cut your pretty skin to shreds.'

I freeze, although I can do nothing to slow the sharp rise and fall of my chest as my panicked breathing quickens, every sense in my body heightening as Mercer runs the flat of the blade over my stomach.

'So we were talking about your secret contract, weren't we?' he murmurs, and I feel his knuckles graze my skin as he moves the dagger towards my ribs. 'I know it's not Maven, and I know even you're not stupid enough to try to kill me. So let's try a sensible answer this time, shall we?'

I hear the chain scrape along the wooden bed frame behind my head and the shackles dig into my wrists as my hands strain instinctively against their binds. I do my best to remain still, not doubting his ability to kill me in an instant, although I cannot help shivering a little as the dagger leaves a trail of goosebumps in its wake as it moves further up my body.

'I didn't gag you for a reason, Wren. Give me an answer.' As he speaks, the Guildmaster runs the dagger over my breast, the chill of the blade making my nipple stiffen and I can only gasp with the sudden sensitivity. 'Come on, little bird,' Mercer says softly, and I hear the smirk in his voice. 'Answer me.'

'There isn't a contract,' I whimper, wanting him to stop, wanting to yield, unable to bear the fearful tension in my body and knowing of only one way to release the feeling. 'I lied, I only broke into your room because I wanted you to find me in here, I wanted you to fuck me.'

The Guildmaster laughs quietly at the shrillness of my voice. 'At least you're partly telling the truth now, but you're still not quite there, are you? And I know you want me to fuck you, Wren, it's all I've heard you say recently. Tilt your head back.'

I've barely time to obey his sudden demand before I feel him move the dagger up to my neck. I hold my breath, the blood pounding in my throat as the cold blade glides over my skin.

Mercer says nothing for a long while as he holds the dagger there. I feel my heart beating faster, unnerved by his silence and my inability to see him or his expression, knowing I cannot tell if he's deliberating pressing harder.

When the Guildmaster finally speaks, his voice is low. 'I think we've learnt how just badly the little bird wants to get off. Enough to lie, but not enough to tell the truth.' He pauses. 'So what do I do with you now?'

I remain perfectly still and don't answer, knowing whatever I say will make no difference to him, that he will have made up his mind how this will end long before I even first opened my mouth. _And surely he won't kill me here, in the Guild, in his bed,_ I think, although the thought is lost beneath my awareness that I cannot put anything past him.

The sudden realisation that all of this is entirely beyond my control causes a strange sense of calmness to wash over me, and as the dagger presses against my throat, the metal slowly growing warmer through its contact with my skin, I exhale slowly and easily, no longer fighting my fear, no longer shivering, no longer caring.

A few moments later, I hear Mercer laugh softly and he takes the dagger from my neck. 'I think you're learning,' he says, and I feel a shiver go through my navel as he lays the dagger flat on my stomach. 'But I know the little slut comes faster than she learns, doesn't she?'

The mattress sinks beneath his weight as he climbs onto the bed near my legs. His hands take my knees and he pulls my legs wide apart before a fierce shiver of pleasure cuts through me a moment later when I feel Mercer's warm tongue at my core.

Still aching between my legs from the his harsh efforts in the water room earlier and with every sense heightened and alert from the naked dagger at my throat, my body reacts quicker than ever; I gasp loudly as he licks at my clit fast and skilfully, the sensation swiftly flooding my frozen body with heat. Beneath my blindfold I shut my eyes tight and I bite my lip hard, trying to focus on the dagger still balanced precariously on my stomach, trying to bring the fear back to quell my building satisfaction, but my body quivers with the pleasure that courses through me from the skill of Mercer's tongue and I can no sooner slow the feeling than I can care whether the dagger cuts me to pieces.

My fingers dig into my palms and I moan breathlessly as the motion of his tongue quickens and the pleasure rises in me just as quickly. One of my legs moves instinctively to curl tight around him, to hold him where my body wants him, but my thigh has barely brushed against his head when Mercer stops and pulls away, leaving me wet and violently desperate for him to finish me.

At my frantic cry of longing, I hear Mercer's laughter, and then somewhere in my frustration I hear him unfastening his trousers. A moment later I feel his body over mine and his cock pressing between my legs, before he grabs my thighs and spreads them wider apart, pushing my knees back to either side of my body.

The shackles dig sharp into my wrists when Mercer enters me and I cry out keenly, wet and wanting from his tongue but still hurting after how brutally he took me a few hours ago; for a moment, with my body incapacitated and my eyes blind, all I can comprehend is the fierce pain. Yet when Mercer pushes his cock to my limits and starts to work himself deep there, it takes only a few rough thrusts from the Guildmaster to bury my pain beneath the heat of my pleasure, and my breath catches painfully in my throat as I moan for him to continue.

He fucks me hard and fast - and in no time I come just as hard and fast, my pleasure already too far gone from his tongue. I tilt my head back and cry out at the feeling as it peaks in me, my hands struggling against the iron binds and my body shuddering violently, before an exhausted numbness overwhelms every inch of me and I slump uselessly into the mattress beneath me.

The Guildmaster's pleasure comes minutes later. By the time he's finished, I barely notice or care, my satisfaction diminished and my body aching sorely with its overuse. As I hear him catch his breath, I suddenly become aware that Mercer's efforts and my throes of pleasure have caused the dagger to slip off to the side of my body and that I can now feel the warm metal poised against my ribs.

Conscious that a single movement might make the sharp blade cut into my skin, I force myself to remain as still as I can, though I cannot help a whimper of discomfort when Mercer pulls his cock from me roughly and with as little regard for my sensitivity as ever. Without a word, he gets up from the bed and I hear the soft movement of material as he refastens his trousers, and I decide it's safe to let my legs unfold down onto the sheets slowly, careful not to disturb the dagger.

I wait in the silent darkness, and when I feel his hands at my wrists, I jump in surprise before I hear the click of the shackles unlocking. Mercer frees me from the cuffs and throws the shackles on the pillow beside my head.

I lower my arms tentatively, my wrists as sore as the rest of me, but I don't move the dagger away, knowing I would probably cut my own hands if I tried to reach down blindly for it - and although my hands are now free, I do not raise them to my eyes, knowing that if Mercer wanted my blindfold removed yet, he would've done it himself.

'You know, I've thought of a use for you,' the Guildmaster says quietly from somewhere above me, and I feel his hand stroking my hair. 'I was just wondering how to solve a little problem of mine, and then there you were, knocking on my door, begging to come inside.' He twirls a curl of my hair in his fingers. 'A willing solution to my problem.'

The danger in his voice puts me on edge. 'What do you mean?' I say nervously, wishing I could fool myself into thinking the solution I offer him goes no further than merely spreading my legs and letting him take me as he likes. _It's more than that,_ I think, although I have the cold gnawing suspicion that I will not know what it is until it is too late.

'You'll find out soon enough, little bird.' I feel his hands move over my head and suddenly he pulls off my blindfold in one quick motion. 'Now fuck off,' he says as I blink desperately in the sudden light. 'I've got work to do.'

I turn my head to look at him, my vision blurring for a moment, but he is already walking away back to his desk. 'But I thought...' I start, confused, assuming that this would be been like last night and that he would he let me stay, that he would want me more than once, that he would fuck me for hours until I could finally fall asleep exhausted and spent on his bed.

Mercer doesn't look around as he settles back at his desk and reaches for his quill. 'What? You think I've got nothing better to do than fuck you?' He shakes his head as he starts to write. 'It's nearly dawn and I've wasted more than enough time indulging you, little bird. So get the fuck out.'

Realising he is serious, humiliation rushes through me. I sit up quickly and reach down to move the dagger away from my side. As I grasp the handle, feeling the golden dagger's weight, the unavoidable thought runs through my mind. _Three seconds,_ I think, knowing how long it would take me to reach where Mercer sits with his naked back to me.

_And that would be about three seconds too slow._

Knowing that it would be smarter to slit my own throat than it would be to attempt to kill Mercer Frey, I leave his dagger lying on the bed before I stand up and hurry over to my clothes on the floor where I stripped myself a short while ago.

'I didn't think you were stupid enough to even consider that,' Mercer comments as I start to dress quickly.

When I glance over at him, I find he isn't even looking up from what he is writing, although with his words I realise he knows exactly what passed through my mind as I held the dagger.

Furious that I am seemingly disadvantaged against him in every respect, I turn away and finish lacing up my binding before reaching down for my trousers.

'Not talking to me now?' Mercer snorts with laughter. 'Finally you're learning what you're good for. Open that mouth when I tell you to and you'll do far better at amusing me, little bird.'

'I'm not trying to amuse you,' I tell him sharply, even as I think of the time I have spent in his room, knowing that I serve as his entertainment yet painfully aware that the shackles he places around my wrists or my ankle might as well not even be there. _I came to his room tonight prepared to do whatever he asked of me, just as I willingly pleased him in any way he demanded last night._

'Well, I don't even have to try to amuse you,' Mercer says mockingly, and I know he is thinking of how many times I have begged him, moaned for him, how many times I have come for him. Before I can think of an answer, he stops writing and turns his head, his gaze finally meeting mine, and the cold laughter in his eyes and the smirk at his mouth makes my stomach twist uncomfortably. 'Even when you don't want it, you can't help yourself from enjoying it, can you?' he says softly.

The memory of how he took me in the water room turns my blood cold and I suddenly think of the guests at Honorhall, the rough ones, the ones that weren't nervous or tentative with their twisted desires, the ones that asserted that I liked it, the ones that frightened me the most not because of their violence and laughter but because I could never understand how they believed I enjoyed it.

_But with Mercer, I convinced some part of me to like it, despite everything._

'I'm done,' I say, my body numb and cold, but Mercer only laughs a harsh laugh.

'Come on, Wren, I could cut your throat and you'd still want me to fuck you while you were choking on your own blood,' he says as he turns back to his work, the derisive smile still at his mouth. 'And yet you get upset when I call you a little slut.'

'Fuck you,' I say before I grab my shirt and turn away to the door, my skin crawling and my mind desperate to leave behind memories I cannot bear to relive.

When I pull open the door, I realise that for the first time he didn't bother to lock it. _Why would he?_ I remind myself as I shut the door behind me and pull on my shirt before I stalk down the passageway. _I came here willingly, entirely of my own choice. He knew I didn't want to go anywhere._

Several guildmembers are awake in the Cistern and I quickly return to my bed, pulling on my jacket and slipping my boots back onto my feet. As I look at my bed, I remember what Mercer said about it nearly being dawn and I realise I have not slept soundly or at any normal hour since the night I murdered Nelia. _Maybe I really did end up in oblivion and everything since has all just been an illusion._

The ache between my legs as I walk to the Ragged Flagon reminds me that this is not an illusion. _There's no pain in oblivion,_ I think, before I realise that there must be no pleasure either. _I'd give it up forever if I never was hurt again,_ I decide, although a small voice in my head questions me, reminding me that I have more than once climbed willingly into a bed where I know my satisfaction comes at a price.

I push open the door to the Flagon, exhausted but knowing sleep is the last thing I am capable of doing right now. I look quickly past the clusters of patrons and head to a table in a dark corner, swiping a couple of half-drunk bottles from one of the tables as I pass by, not desiring to wait at the bar or talk to anyone.

I sit cross-legged on my chair and swallow down my pilfered drinks fast; not used to mead, my stomach turns a little with the taste. I close my eyes and wait for the feeling to pass, deciding it is a welcome distraction from my thoughts.

When I open my eyes again, I curl my hands around the neck of the bottle and take a few slow breaths, imagining that a sharp golden dagger is pressed against my stomach once again, trying to keep my body as still as I can. _Maybe if I don't move, I will stop feeling anything at all._

It seems to work, and I spend a few minutes listening to the noise of the tavern around me, deciding I am content to let the world move past me when I suddenly hear a voice to my right, startling me from my thoughts.

'You're drinking alone, lass?'

My breath catches to hear his voice, and when I turn to look around, something tightens abruptly in my chest at the sight of Brynjolf standing not five feet from me. His auburn hair is tied back loosely and an unkempt stubble shadows his jaw, and the familiar half-smile pulls at one corner of his mouth.

The thought of why I was so angry and hurt when he left the Guild crosses my mind and swiftly leaves it. I feel no jealousy over what I overheard between him and Sapphire, nor do I feel afraid of the reason behind my jealousy in the first place; for that fragile moment, I think about nothing except how glad I am to see him, how warm nerves flutter in my stomach once more at the closeness of him, how every part of me longs to stay in this moment when I can just look at him and be near to him without thinking about anything else. Familiar enough by now with my own desire, I know I feel that too; despite the fact that I am at last fully conscious of exactly how I care for the auburn-haired thief, in that moment the feeling is secondary, vague, and unimportant.

_I don't even want pleasure, I just want_ _him,_ I think, before I realise several long seconds have passed and I force the thought from my mind.

'You're back,' I manage to say eventually.

Brynjolf's smile makes my heart hurt a little more. 'And you're here,' he says. 'Strange how these things happen.' He inclines his head. 'Dare I even ask why you're awake and drinking alone at this hour?'

'I... I couldn't sleep,' I answer, as if that explains it. 'You?'

'Much the same, lass.' His green eyes hold mine. 'I feel like I'll be tempting fate by asking again, but want me to buy you another drink?'

I hesitate, part of me terrified to even acknowledge my reaction to seeing him again, having already decided that I would prefer humiliation at Mercer's hands over putting my heart into Brynjolf's. _The stupid little bird will get that feeble heart of hers broken,_ I think, as the warm flutter in my stomach quickly turns to jealous knots as I remember how it felt to hear him and Sapphire together, and I know I cannot bear to feel that way again.

The thief notices my hesitation. 'Would you rather be left alone, lass?' he says easily, as if it doesn't matter either way.

_And it doesn't,_ I think, knowing that the thief cares little about whether he buys me a drink or not. _His interest in me goes no further than that of any of the other male guildmembers,_ I remind myself, aware that most of them would also buy me a drink if it meant I would end up in their bed for the night. _Except maybe Rune and Mercer,_ I think, certain that Rune at least would not want to take advantage of me, and that Mercer has no need to get me drunk first. _I give him the advantage willingly._

'No,' I say quickly to Brynjolf, having no desire to be alone with my thoughts. 'I'll pass on the drink, but you don't have to leave.'

The redhead's eyes crinkle up as he grins. 'Good, because I don't think I could've walked all the way across the Flagon, anyway,' he says as he drops down into the chair opposite me with an exhausted sigh. 'You do realise I've been to the other side of Skyrim and back, right? You're a cruel woman to keep me standing as long as you did.'

I laugh before I can help myself. 'Anyone would think you're getting old,' I say lightly.

'Older, aye, but unfortunately not wiser.' He sighs again. 'And I didn't come over here for your sharp tongue and the harsh truth, you know. Next you're going to tell me that I'm losing my good looks too.'

'You look fine to me,' I say before I feel my cheeks flush and I busy myself with bringing the mead bottle to my lips, although the contents are long gone and I have to only pretend to drink.

I feel his gaze on me, although I dare not look up at him until my awkward blush has faded. 'And what about you?' he says. 'You're still as beautiful as ever, so I assume you haven't been worked too hard in my absence, have you?'

Though my heart flutters at his compliment, the feeling quickly vanishes when I hear the rest of his words. 'No, it's been fine,' I say shortly, not wanting to describe just how hard I've been worked by the Guildmaster. I look up at him, wanting to change the subject. 'How was Solitude?' I ask. 'Aside from being really far away?'

'Solitude? Too many jewels but not enough pockets,' Brynjolf tells me. 'Nobles flaunt every damn piece of finery they own, which makes taking it from them a whole lot harder, unless you like ripping it from their body at knifepoint. Too many guards for that, as well.' He shakes his head. 'But for all the coin, the cells are miserable, lass. Promise me you won't ever get yourself into trouble in Haafingar, all right?'

The thought of him in a prison cell makes my heart tighten uncomfortably. 'You were in jail?' I say.

'Not this time,' he says. 'But I'm more acquainted with Castle Dour dungeons than I'd like. The name is fairly apt.' His green eyes hold mine. 'So what's been going on here?' he asks, although I'm sure the first thing he did upon returning was report back to Mercer and in return was updated with the goings on within the Guild.

_What else will Mercer have told him?_ I wonder suddenly, the thought of the auburn-haired thief finding out about my encounters with the Guildmaster causing me to flush red and for a strange nauseous dread to hollow out my stomach. _He wouldn't have told him,_ I reassure myself, convinced that Mercer has more important things on his mind than discussing me with his second-in-command, even though I know it would've entertained him no end to cause me more humiliation.

'Not much,' I answer quickly, not wanting to tell him that I was actually away from the Guild for a week, nor why I left in the first place, nor any of the things that have happened since he has been away. 'I've just been working above ground mostly.'

If Brynjolf wanted more of an answer, he doesn't push for it. 'It's probably wise you keep it that way for a while.' A frown knits his brow. 'Remember what I said about Mercer when you first joined the Guild? To bring him gold and don't piss him off? Well, no amount of gold could sweeten the news I gave him, so take my advice and keep your distance for a few days until he's calmed down, all right?'

Already well aware of the extent of Mercer's rage, I long to heed Brynjolf's words far more than he can know. 'I hear he's been outsmarted,' I say, trying to hide my small flicker of satisfaction at the thought before I realise my error. 'I spoke to Sapphire and she told me,' I add hurriedly, before Brynjolf can wonder how I even know that the Guildmaster has been outsmarted without him telling me so himself.

'At least you've been forewarned, then.' Something flickers in Brynjolf's eyes as he looks at me. 'So you've spoken to Sapphire,' he says easily, and I wonder why he's mentioning it. 'I bet you're glad she's back.'

'I am,' I say truthfully, although the sound of her name in his voice makes jealousy cut through me before I can stop it, and I hurry to move the conversation on. 'So what happened, exactly? What news did you bring Mercer?'

Brynjolf grimaces. 'Our agent gave up some information we weren't expecting. All this time we thought we've just had a run of bad luck... well, apparently Delvin's curse has a name, one we never thought we'd hear again.' He pauses. 'Anyone around here ever told you about Karliah?'

I shake my head, wondering just what the woman could've done to anger Mercer. 'Who is she?'

'She was one of us, once.' The thief's voice turns bitter. 'Until about five years ago when she murdered the former Guildmaster and tried to do the same to Mercer.'

'How?' I ask, before I realise that's the wrong question and that my curiosity and awe over how she almost killed Mercer is probably of secondary importance to Brynjolf. 'Why did she do that?'

'Greed? Self-preservation? Honestly, I don't fucking know why, all I know is she did it and got away with it.' Brynjolf's jaw is set as his gaze moves over the tavern, anger burning in his eyes. and I realise that the topic is not one he enjoys talking about. 'It turned out she'd emptied the Guild vault of all the goods we were waiting to fence to the right buyers. They were worth more than all the gold in Solitude, together they would've set every one of us up for life. Karliah stole them all and lured Mercer and Gallus to their deaths in an attempt to cover her tracks and buy enough time to sell off the goods herself.' A cold grim smile twists the thief's mouth. 'But Mercer escaped. Since then he's spent a fortune getting eyes and ears on every deal being made this side of Tamriel, but we never heard word of any of those items again, let alone the woman selling them. After she killed Gallus, Karliah vanished without a trace.' The redhead's bitter tone grows even colder. 'He was a good man and a fair Guildmaster. He didn't deserve to be stabbed in the back, and not by someone he loved.'

'Loved?' I repeat. 'He and Karliah were lovers?'

Despite his bitterness, a small smile pulls at Brynjolf's mouth as his gaze flickers back to me. 'What a sweet way of putting it,' he says. 'Well, they had a... connection. Whatever else might've been between them, they worked well together. They were the best at what they did, and the pair of them brought in more coin than the Guild has ever seen.' He shakes his head. 'And yes, he loved her, any fool could see that. His little nightingale, he'd call her, and the way she smiled back at him, you could almost believe she loved him too.' Brynjolf's voice hardens. 'But it was only a game to her, a ploy to get his guard down enough to sink a dagger into his heart.'

'I'm sorry, Brynjolf,' I say, not sure what I am sorry for but knowing that some part of the thief is still hurt by the events he is retelling and suddenly all I want to do is relieve his pain however I can, even if I can only be sorry that it happened.

At my words, Brynjolf's bitter expression vanishes. 'Lass, you don't need to apologise,' he says quickly, the ice gone from his voice. 'You're not the one who's been screwing with our plans and trying to bring us down for the last five years. Look, there's no use retreading old paths. We'll find her and make her pay, and that'll be the end of it.' His eyes hold mine. 'And nothing like this is going to happen again. I know things aren't going our way right now and jobs are thin on the ground for everyone, but the Guild will get back on its feet. Trust me.'

My heart warms a little at the insistence in his voice, knowing he means to reassure me of my place at the Guild, although I cannot admit to him the extent of my uncertainty over my future here, knowing it is only partly linked to the lack of work available. 'I hope so,' I say. 'I could use the coin.'

'Then I'll find work for you,' Brynjolf says immediately. A moment later, the charming smile appears at his mouth and I feel a rush of gladness that he is no longer angry or hurt. 'And I could always teach you to be a better pickpocket. You can never be short of coin if everyone else's pockets are yours too, you know.'

'I don't think I'll ever have your skill,' I say honestly with a smile.

'Oh, but I'm a very good teacher, Wren.' He grins. 'And if you really are that bad, feel free to just distract them while I pickpocket them instead.'

Before I can answer, a group of newcomers enter the Flagon from the direction of the Ratway. Their voices are vicious and loud as they argue over who killed the most men during their journey here. _Highwaymen, looking for shelter from the autumn storms,_ I realise, their armour and weapons an odd assortment and their satchels heavy with loot to trade.

I quickly look away, knowing that a wrong stare in the Ragged Flagon might end in a brawl to the death, having witnessed it once or twice in my short time at the Guild.

Brynjolf glances over at them too before he turns back to me. 'You know, it's well past your bedtime, lass,' he says lightly.

'I'm more than used to the Flagon's clientele by now,' I tell him.

'Aye, but I've seen a few of them here before, and they aren't known for their kind treatment of beautiful women. One look at you and I'll have to fight them off by myself.' Brynjolf grins before he stands up. 'And I'm old and tired, remember? So save me the hassle and let me walk you back to the Cistern, all right?'

'You don't have to walk me back,' I say. 'It's only just through there.'

Brynjolf sighs in exasperation. 'Lass, I'm trying to be a gentleman, so just let me, will you?'

When I hear the group of men start an argument with some of the other patrons, I suddenly remember that I don't have my daggers strapped to my thighs and I see the sense in leaving the tavern before things get out of hand, knowing well enough what intoxicated men are capable of if they get the thought into their minds. _The addicts in that skooma den would've taken their pleasure of both my unconscious body and Nelia's corpse,_ I think, before I feel a cold shiver of fear and remind myself never to think of that again.

'Fine,' I say as I stand up quickly.

Brynjolf stays close at my side as we walk across the Flagon in the direction of the Cistern. He walks between me and the highwaymen's table, effectively shielding me from their sight, and as we pass them by, I feel the thief's hand touch protectively at the small of my back.

Even the barest contact of his hand on my body sets my heart thudding fast and suddenly I feel like I am blindfolded and chained again, vulnerable, fearing the touch of his hand as if it is as dangerous as the dagger on my bare skin.

Although I try to stop it, my mind jumps to the night I murdered the Dunmer merchant, remembering it vividly, not for the blood or the dead man beneath me or the oath I made to Sithis, but for what happened in the alley with Brynjolf beforehand and how it felt to be pressed against him, to have him touch me, to kiss him - and suddenly, every step I take with the redhead at my side makes me think of how bitterly I wish that he had been the one touching me earlier, that I had stripped off my clothes for him, that he had taken his pleasure of me, that he had been the one who made me come.

Fortunately, Brynjolf is entirely unaware of my thoughts; seemingly with something on his own mind, he remains silent as we enter the Cistern. By the time we stop beside my bed, I've just about succeeded in controlling my racing heart, although my efforts are proven entirely futile when Brynjolf turns to face me.

The bright green in his eyes catch the dim light. 'I'll find you tomorrow when I've got work for you,' he says. He hesitates, before the half-smile pulls at his mouth. 'Then maybe afterwards you'll finally let me buy you that drink, Wren.'

I feel my heart flutter nervously in my chest, but I can no sooner control it than I can stop the words that suddenly spill out of my mouth. 'I'd like that,' I say, and my heart beats faster as Brynjolf's smile makes his eyes crinkle up.

'Then I'll see you later,' he says. 'Sleep well, lass.'

'You too,' I manage to say, and I stand uselessly beside my bed as I watch him walk back to the Flagon, feeling my nerves move down to my stomach in apprehension as I properly hear the words out of my mouth and realise what those words might mean.

Quickly I get into bed and curl up close to the wall, my mind desperately trying to process the events of the last few hours and soon finding that I am too exhausted to think of anything beyond the few minutes I spent with the auburn-haired thief and the thought of spending more time with him tomorrow.

_This will hurt,_ a small voice in my head warns me, reminding me that although I can barely understand it, I know Brynjolf has far more power to hurt me than Mercer does. _And yet I don't care,_ I think, remembering how it felt to see him again, and the rush of warm relief that he has come back safely somehow pushes all other thought from my mind.

I bury myself beneath the sheets and, not knowing whether it is my lack of sleep of the past few days or whether it is something else entirely, for a few precious hours and for the first time that I can remember, I sleep soundly and without dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly intended to write a shorter chapter this time because after all it's just two scenes, but 5.4k of more awful Mercer smut + 3.4k of a Brynjolf reunion = a super monster chapter of emotion. And I'm expecting the next chapter to probably be of a similar length. Take it and like it, little birds ;)  
> Also, since we're starting to get to the actual TG questline stuff now (yay I'm so excited!), I feel like I need a disclaimer: there are a few minor things that bother me about the TG questline, so there will be some changes as we progress and I just want to forewarn you! As you've obviously just read, I shortened the time that has passed since Gallus' murder down to 5 years. I have never been able to get my head around the fact that it happened 25 years ago – mostly because why the hell haven't Karliah and Mercer done anything since then?! So the changes will hopefully solve some of the stretches of plausibility that the in-game quest throws up (that goddamn journal, for one!!!!!). Plus Wren just hasn't got time for a lot of it. But since this has always been focused on Wren's story rather than being just a Thieves Guild retelling, hopefully you won't mind me changing a few things!
> 
> Thank you for reading and sticking with me to the *almost* first 100k of this story! We've got a long way to go yet. But I am already planning the sequel ;)
> 
> And to you lovely readers who still take the time to comment, you have no idea how greatly I treasure every word <3


	15. A Game

It's late morning when I surface from my bed, with my body exhausted yet my mind starkly alert, for once not having been woken by bad dreams. I find the Cistern to be deserted except for several sleeping guildmembers, and relief flickers inside me when I realise that luck is on my side and I will have the privacy I need. _And it's the last time I will taste nightshade,_ I think firmly, and for the first time, I actually believe it.

Above ground in the graveyard, I breathe deeply the fresh air and close my eyes for a short while, feeling the cool sunlight on my face. The scent of the poisonous flowers fills my nose, the bitterness as familiar as the memories it brings to my mind; when I open my eyes, my gaze is drawn to the far side of the graveyard, though there are now fresher mounds than the one covering the woman I murdered. _I thought that was my beginning,_ I think, remembering the night I left Honorhall, believing that the bloody end of Grelod's life marked the start of mine.

 _The night Astrid kidnapped me was my real beginning,_ I realise as I reach down and pluck a few flowers from one of the graves, knowing that if she had never taken me, I would still be oblivious, with no notion of the blue-eyed slender woman by whose hands I found myself an orphan in Honorhall. _Maybe it would be better never to have known,_ I think for a moment, some part of me longing for the unaware oblivion, before it hits me that if there is no pain or pleasure in the Void, then surely there is no justice either. _And I must bring Astrid to justice,_ I think, wanting it more than any pleasure, fearing my failure more than any pain.

With my heart and mind strangely calm, when I am back in the underground cavern, I head to the kitchen and lay the nightshade on the table. As I set water to boil, I hear a door slam somewhere over the sound of rushing water and my sense of purpose soon slips away from me; when I turn around and catch sight of the Guildmaster walking through the Cistern towards his desk, I feel a shiver run down my back as I am forced to recall last night.

 _I enjoy it even when I don't want it,_ I think, remembering his words and the way he smirked when he said them - and then I remember what happened in the water room beforehand, and how I still went begging to him afterwards, and suddenly I feel so unsettled and nervous that even the taste of nightshade would be a welcome reprieve from the nauseous feeling in my stomach.

I watch Mercer warily, waiting for him to call me over or at least look at me. To my intense relief, he ignores me entirely, and I am more than content to do exactly the same, although as my hands reach for the nightshade I suddenly become conscious of what I am doing. _Killing whatever he has left inside me,_ I think, wondering how Mercer would react and deciding I would rather not learn. As the water boils, I busy myself with finding something to eat and rinsing the stacks of cups left over from the night before, buying a little time in the hope that Mercer will leave the Cistern. Yet after several minutes have passed and he is still at his desk, I realise that unless I want to risk waiting until all the guildmembers are awake, I have no choice but to carry on with my task now.

 _And why shouldn't I?_ I think, certain that the Guildmaster would prefer that I remove any chance of me having his child. _And even if he didn't, I don't give a fuck what he wants. This is what I want._

If Mercer notices what I am doing or tastes the scent of nightshade on the air as I let the tea brew, he doesn't seem to care; he makes no comment, although I start to feel the familiar weight of his gaze on my back as I finish my work and bring the bitter drink to my lips.

I do my best to swallow the poison down without choking. Sincerely regretting my decision not to purchase more of the sweeter tasting potion from Maven's daughter when I visited the alchemy store, I finish the tea quickly and decide I need fresh air. I glance over to Sapphire's bed and realise the raven-haired thief is still sleeping, and when my gaze moves across the Guild I see Rune's bed is empty and I assume he is out on a job. A flicker of frustration cuts through me and I decide to wait in the Flagon for either of the thieves to come find me, not desiring to be alone with my thoughts and having nothing else to do. _At least Brynjolf said he'd get work for me,_ I think, before I remember what else I agreed to last night, and the thought of drinking with the redhead alone and away from the Guild sends a flutter of nerves through my stomach, not entirely unlike the unsettled nausea I felt a few minutes ago.

I'm crossing over the pool and halfway to the Flagon door when Mercer finally calls me over to his desk. I ignore him and carry on walking until he repeats himself, his voice turning sharper as he says my name louder. As I stop and turn to look at him, ready to snap at him to leave me alone, out of the corner of my eye I see Sapphire stirring in her bed and I realise that shouting across the Cistern at Mercer isn't the smartest idea.

'What?' I hiss at him, but he only looks at me, waiting for me to walk up to his desk.

Knowing I'd rather keep whatever he has to say between just us, I relent and go over to him, folding my arms and stopping short of his desk. I see dark shadows lingering under his eyes and his brow is furrowed, though his gaze is just as sharp as ever when he looks me up and down.

'Well?' I say bluntly, trying to keep my voice low. 'What do you want?'

He laughs a harsh laugh, clearly making no such similar effort to stay quiet. 'Already so frustrated. It's barely midday.' His gaze flickers over me briefly once more before he looks back down at the papers on his desk. 'Just be outside my room tonight,' he says. 'And lose the attitude, or I won't make it half as enjoyable for you.'

'Didn't you listen to me last night?' I say coldly, hating the sound of his voice, remembering all the things he has said to me and deciding I never want to hear any of it again, not even in exchange for my pleasure. 'I told you I was done with this.'

'Wren, you tell me that every time I fuck you,' he says, not looking up, his tone bored. 'I'm starting to get tired of it, especially when all I have to do is touch you and you change your mind.'

Anger flares in me hot and violent. 'If you ever try to touch me again, I'll cut off your hands,' I say.

Mercer doesn't react, although a small smile forms at his mouth. 'We'll find out later, won't we? Somehow I think you'd rather I keep my hands as long as I use them to touch you.'

'I'd rather touch myself than let you anywhere near me again, thanks,' I snap, but that only makes him laugh, his gaze flickering up to me in amusement.

'That could be entertaining,' he says, his eyes glinting. 'You can do that tonight and we'll see which one of us makes you come the fastest.'

'Fuck off,' I say viciously, having had more than enough, but I have barely turned away and made a few steps in the direction of the Flagon before Mercer catches up to me and grabs my arm.

'Did I say you could go?' His voice is sharp as I gasp in pain at the tightness of his hold at my forearm. 'Gods, you really don't learn, do you?'

'Mercer-' I start, my anger and the roughness of his grip making my voice louder than I'd like, but as I try to struggle out of his hold, he only jerks me closer to him, and my words catch in my throat as pain shoots up my arm.

'So you're done with me, are you?' the Guildmaster says mockingly. 'I wonder why.' He inclines his head, and a smirk pulls at his mouth. 'Could it be because Brynjolf is back? I almost forgot the little bird wants him in her bed, doesn't she?' He laughs softly as I feel my cheeks flush red with his words and his derisive tone. 'You're a fool if you think anything has changed since he left. Except the number of times he's fucked Sapphire. Or did you forget that he wants her and not you?'

'I don't care who Brynjolf wants,' I say, although I taste the lie on my tongue as clearly as Mercer hears it in my voice. As his eyes narrow with amusement, I stop struggling against his hold and stare up at him, fury spurring me on. 'And that's irrelevant. I don't want you, Mercer, whether Brynjolf or anyone else is here or not. I'm done. So leave me alone.'

The Guildmaster looks down at me for a few moments, his grip not lessening as his eyes move over my face.

'We'll see about that, little bird,' he says softly, my chest tightening at the danger in his voice. 'I think you'll beg me for it before the night is over. But let's play your game, if you want. I'll make you a deal. If you don't ask me to fuck you by dawn, I'll never so much as look at you again.' His grip tightens, and I gasp again with the pressure of his hand around my arm. 'But if you come to me willingly, you'll do what I say from now on. Everything from that empty little head of yours down to your cunt will belong to me to do with as I like, and I don't want to hear one more word about how you think this is over, Wren. I decide when I'm done with you. Fair enough deal?'

Mercer releases my arm and pushes me away before I can even form an answer.

'Off you go, then,' he says. 'Unless you want to skip the game and I'll just fuck you right now.'

My mind reconnects with the rest of me and I draw my arms tight around my body, my hands and legs shaking with anger, wishing I had the upper hand and the physical advantage enough to bury my dagger in Mercer's heart. 'You're never fucking me again,' I say viciously. 'Stay the hell away from me.'

I whirl around and the blush of humiliation already in my cheeks rises violently when I notice Sapphire is awake and sitting on the edge of her bed as she laces up her boots; clearly well within earshot of my words and Mercer's, I realise the raven-haired thief has overheard far more than I'd like.

I force myself to pretend otherwise as I stride over to her, trying my best to steady my breathing. 'Finally, you're awake,' I say brightly when I come to stand before her. 'Want to scope out some places for shopping later?' I force a smile on my face. 'Or are you too good for Riften now you're used to fancy Solitude stores?'

Sapphire is quick enough to realise my desire to leave. 'Hardly,' she says, finishing lacing her boots swiftly before standing up and strapping her dagger at her thigh. 'Let's go, then.'

I feel the Guildmaster's gaze follow me as I cross the Cistern with Sapphire, and it's not until we're above ground and I take a breath of air that I start to feel my furiously racing heart begin to settle. _The scent of poison helps too,_ I think, tasting the nightshade of the graveyard for the second time today and feeling my fury burn twice as fiercely. _Even if all I can do is destroy some small part of him inside me, I'll gladly do it._

Sapphire and I walk through the city in silence, the bright autumn sunlight flashing into our eyes as it breaks through the gaps between the high buildings. To her credit, Sapphire doesn't bring up what she overheard, but I know it is on her mind just as it is on mine, and it's not long before her guarded nature gives way beneath her evident curiosity.

'So...' Sapphire finally says as we near the city centre. 'Anything interesting been happening around here while I've been gone?'

Her casual tone doesn't distract me from what she's actually asking. 'Not really,' I say, determined to match her offhandedness.

'Oh.' She pauses. 'So what have you been doing?'

'I actually had a Brotherhood contract,' I tell her honestly, but not desiring to be any more truthful than that.

 _She would approve of what I did to the Argonian who wanted to hurt me,_ I think, although I know she would question how I could do that and yet climb willingly into Mercer's bed.

My assassination seems to interest her little. 'Well, what's been happening in the Guild, then?' she says as we come to the edge of the market. 'It feels like I've been away forever.'

I stop walking. 'I don't want to talk about it, Saph,' I said abruptly.

She puts on an innocently confused expression as she too stops and turns to look at me. 'What? You don't want to talk about work?'

'No, you know what I mean.' I look at her, suddenly wishing I had the courage to tell her everything, to tell her exactly how I feel, to admit I'm afraid.

_If there's one thing I know, it's that I'm not strong enough for that._

'It's over, and I'm fine,' I tell her, even as some voice whispers in my head that at least one of those statements is a lie.

'I'm not asking anything,' Sapphire says quickly. She pauses again. 'As long as you're all right.'

'I am,' I say firmly. I hold her gaze, suddenly defensive even though I know she's only trying to look out for me and she is not so much curious as she is concerned. 'As long as you're all right too,' I add pointedly.

'Me?' Sapphire's confusion is genuine this time. 'Why wouldn't I be?'

'The night before you left for Solitude. You were in jail, weren't you?' I hesitate, not sure if I want to talk about what happened afterwards, but finding myself somehow wanting the torture, just as I did when I stood outside the door and listened to them. 'Before Brynjolf rescued you,' I say finally.

'He didn't _rescue_ me,' she snaps, suddenly twice as defensive as I am. 'He paid a fine. I would've got out on my own if he hadn't shown up.'

'I know,' I say quickly, wishing I hadn't brought it up. 'I'm just saying, be careful. You think someone set you up, don't you?'

'I know they did,' she says. 'The guards knew exactly where I'd be. It was like they-' Sapphire stops, confusion in her eyes once again. 'I didn't tell anyone that I thought I'd been set up.'

I suddenly realise she is right and that I had overheard her sharing her fears with Brynjolf at the Overlook. _Along with everything else I overheard._

'Just a guess,' I say, my tone light. 'It was a routine job, and you're hardly an amateur at this. If the guards knew exactly where to find you, it sounds like someone wanted you to get caught.'

With my words, I realise what I'm saying, and the thought of someone in the Guild purposefully trying to get Sapphire arrested sends an unsettled shiver down my back.

'Who gave you the job?' I ask.

'Delvin,' she answers, a small frown at her brow.

We look at each other for a moment, and I know she too is trying and failing to imagine Delvin turning her into the guards.

'Well, maybe it's a good thing there aren't many jobs going at the moment,' I say, trying to smile.

Sapphire's own small smile mirrors my own, though her pretty hazel eyes remain clouded with doubt. 'I suppose you're right.' Her frown lingers for a moment before she shakes her head a little. 'Want to go to the tavern instead of shopping?' she says abruptly, despite it barely being past midday.

'I'm low on coin,' I tell her honestly, before I realise I don't actually care. _If it helps alleviate her fears or my own, I'll give up all the gold I have._ I smile at her. 'But I always have enough for wine.'

Neither of us fancy the usual crowds of the Bee and Barb, so we head to a little tavern a few streets south of the marketplace and order food and drink. For a few hours, I let everything slip from my mind as the raven-haired thief and I spend the afternoon in the warm tavern, both of us eager to forget what was on our minds.

Sapphire tells me about Solitude and I quickly decide I would rather stay in Riften than ever visit the capital city. The thief's account of the sheer size and grandeur of the place first make me think that Solitude would put more far coin into my pockets than Riften ever could, but when Sapphire describes the number of guards and the tradition for daily executions for thieves and criminals, I realise I'd be better off never setting foot in Haafingar. I draw some comfort that the Guild apparently has little presence in Solitude and so I will likely never have a need to visit the place; Sapphire tells me about a number of long-standing Guild heists, including plans to rob the Blue Palace, that have never come to fruition thanks to the lack of resources in recent years.

That thought makes me think about what Brynjolf told me last night, that the curse plaguing the Guild is actually the work of one woman, and I ask Sapphire if she knows much about Karliah and the events of five years ago.

Sapphire shakes her head. 'Brynjolf recruited me about a month after it happened.' She makes a quiet snort of laughter. 'Everyone was so welcoming,' she adds sarcastically.

'I can imagine,' I say, knowing how it feels, aware that I am still considered the new blood within the Guild and have yet to really gain the trust of any of my fellow guildmembers beyond Sapphire and Rune.

 _And being associated with the Dark Brotherhood hasn't helped_ _much_ _,_ I think, knowing their suspicion only grew after that revelation, and I've no doubt that Sapphire's untimely arrival just after another female guildmember's unforgivable betrayal made her initiation into the Guild even harder.

'She's good, though,' Sapphire says after a little while, as she brings her cup of wine to her lips. 'If she's really been behind all the failed jobs over the last years.'

'Agreed,' I say, remembering my awe at how the woman came so close to killing Mercer and my satisfaction that she has been outsmarting him ever since. 'Maybe she's the one who set you up,' I point out, feeling a flicker of relief when the thought comes to me, preferring the idea of a traitor and murderer being the one who set up Sapphire than someone who sleeps in the same room as us.

'True,' Sapphire says. 'Although why she's even still bothering to screw with the Guild, I don't know. The way I heard it, what she stole from the vault would've set her up for life.'

'Maybe it's not about gold for her anymore,' I say, as I think about my own quest to take down Astrid, knowing that coin is of little importance. 'Maybe she just wants to destroy the Guild for her own reasons.'

'Well, whatever the reason, she's going to fail,' Sapphire says. 'She got away once but I doubt Mercer will let her do it a second time.'

'I doubt it,' I agree, knowing well enough the Guildmaster's intention to make Karliah pay.

I change the subject, not desiring to dwell further on the topic of Mercer Frey and risk Sapphire voicing her concern again, and as we talk about other things, soon I feel my nerves lose some of their tension, the comfortable combination of the wine, warm food and familiarity of being with Sapphire setting me at ease for the first time in a while.

We don't stay out too late; as dusk draws in and we finish up the last of our drinks, we hear the rain start to fall outside and the tavern soon grows crowded with people jostling for the best place by the fire. When I suggest we go to the Flagon instead, Sapphire agrees.

With our hoods pulled up to shield ourselves from the rain, we walk back to the graveyard in comfortable silence. By the time we reach the tomb, my good mood has dampened a little, my head cleared enough by the cool air to allow my nerves to return as I start to think about running into Mercer again.

The same must be on Sapphire's mind, as before we drop down the ladder, she takes my arm and stops me.

'I know you said you're fine,' she says. 'But as soon as you're not, swear that you'll tell me.' Her hazel eyes burn into mine. 'I'll cut his throat myself, all right?'

She doesn't have to tell me who she means, and suddenly my heart warms with her fierce words. 'It won't come to that,' I say firmly. I hesitate, needing to tell her how grateful I am for her concern and knowing I cannot find the words. 'But I appreciate it, Saph. Really.'

The raven-haired thief nods once and quickly begins climbing down the ladder, clearly having little desire to let me get too sentimental. More than happy to follow suit and stop the conversation before I flail awkwardly over my words any further, I follow her down the tomb and along the passageway. When we reach the end, Sapphire stands back to let me unlock the Cistern door, my skill with a lockpick stronger than hers.

Once inside, my gaze goes straight across to the Guildmaster's desk, fearing the worst - when I realise that not only is Mercer at his desk but that Brynjolf is with him, whatever warmth I felt in my heart from my time with Sapphire vanishes until all I am left with is a cold and inexplicable sense of dread.

'Wren,' Mercer calls to me before Sapphire and I have even closed the door behind us.

Wanting to ignore him yet afraid of what he will do if I refuse his command, I glance at Sapphire. 'I'll catch you up,' I say.

She only looks at me, her eyes narrowing. 'Fine,' she says, and I hear a shred of annoyance in her voice that bites at something inside me as we part ways and she walks to the Flagon door.

 _If it were her, she wouldn't run to his summons,_ I realise, suspecting that if Sapphire were me, she would cut off the Guildmaster's hands as I threatened earlier today. _But I'm weaker than Sapphire, and more afraid._

As I approach Mercer's desk, he and the redhead watch me with equal attention and I desperately try not to feel the sickening sensation rising in my stomach.

'What is it?' I ask as I come to stand beside Brynjolf, doing my best not to sound nervous.

'What do you think?' Mercer scoffs before handing me a slip of paper. 'Work, of course. Brynjolf said he'd find you something to do, didn't he? We can't have the poor little bird empty in the pockets.'

I take the folded paper from him and look warily at Brynjolf, feeling disconcerted that he took my request for work directly to Mercer. 'What's the job?' I ask.

'It's nothing you can't handle,' Brynjolf says. His eyes seem cool as he looks at me, and I hear a bitter edge in his voice, almost as he sounded when he spoke of Karliah the night before. 'One of our clients hasn't paid us what we're owed in weeks. Since they're no longer paying, we're no longer protecting them. Just go to the address on that paper and take whatever you find in the safe. Feel free to strip the store of anything you like too.'

'All right,' I say, relieved that the job is simple enough but feeling strangely uneasy from the edge in the redhead's voice. 'I'll get it done.'

'Be a good girl and make it quick,' Mercer calls idly to me before I've taken two steps away from his desk. 'I've got another job for you later.' His gaze flickers over me as I turn around and I see a small smile forming at his mouth. 'Once you're done stripping the store you can walk your little ass back to my room and strip yourself.'

I blush scarlet as humiliation burns through me. Furious and horrified, I open and promptly close my mouth, unable to think of what to say.

Mercer's eyes gleam with amusement. 'Close your mouth, little bird, I'll need it rested for later,' he says with a laugh. 'Now fuck off and get to work, or you'll have to earn it twice as hard tonight.'

My face like fire yet feeling the chill of Brynjolf's gaze on me, I turn and stalk away, suddenly desiring nothing more than to call in Sapphire's favour now and watch her cut the Guildmaster's throat. _Actually, the one thing I desire more than that is to cut his throat myself._

Not sure where to go but knowing I want to get as far from the Cistern as possible, I head back the way Sapphire and I came, trying to draw some comfort from the fact that Mercer didn't say what he did in front of the entire Guild - but my vague sense of consolation disappears when I spy Thrynn, Vipir and a couple of other guildmembers in the kitchen. From their expressions and the way their gaze follows me as I pass, I realise they overheard what Mercer said. Knowing that Thrynn will soon tell them how he once overheard me screaming in the Guildmaster's room, if he hasn't already, I realise that it won't be long before everyone is aware of what is between me and Mercer. _And then they'll think I'm nothing more than a bedwarmer for the taking._

Feeling my skin crawling with humiliation and unease, I leave the Cistern and slam the door behind me, walking fast down the passageway. I'm barely halfway to the ladder when I hear the sound of the door swing shut once more before footsteps follow me.

I turn around reluctantly, knowing I can't outrun whoever it is, and find myself face to face with Brynjolf.

Even in the uneasy dim magelight, I see clearly enough his expression, and I draw my arms around me, feeling the chill of his look cut through me.

'So it's true what he said. You're really fucking him.' Disgust curls around Brynjolf's voice. 'Mercer, seriously? You think that's going to end well for you?'

'It's not like that,' I snap, my face hot, not wanting to explain, not knowing how to explain.

'So what is it like?' Brynjolf says, his own tone as sharp as mine. 'Do you think he cares about you? You think you're anything more than a good lay to him?'

'Thanks,' I say sarcastically, his words hurting more than I let on. 'It's nice to know that's all I'm worth.'

Suddenly afraid of continuing this conversation, I turn away, but Brynjolf grabs my shoulder and holds me in place.

'I'm not saying that,' he tells me, his eyes flashing with anger. 'I'm saying Mercer's going to hurt you, if he hasn't already. Fucking gods, Wren, are you so blind you can't see that?'

My own anger rises abruptly with his harsh words and the truth I know well enough, still feeling the dim ache in my body from Mercer's efforts last night. 'So what if he hurts me?' I say, pulling out of Brynjolf's hold. 'At least I know he's just using me. At least he doesn't pretend that this is anything more than a game to him.'

The thief doesn't miss the insinuation. 'Whereas I do?' His eyes narrow. 'What are you trying to say, that you're only a game to me?'

'I know I am,' I say coldly, and the words spill out of my mouth before I can stop them. 'You work your way around all the women down here, don't you? Vex, Tonilia, that Imperial before she got caught at Goldenglow and sent to the gallows. And wasn't there a golden-eyed Bosmer girl that left the Guild because you broke her heart?' I try to think of all the other rumours I've heard that link the redhead with the women of the Guild but I find my mind focuses on only one. 'And there's Sapphire, of course,' I add.

Brynjolf's expression fractures for a moment, though I can scarcely tell whether it is his anger or something else that causes the green of his eyes to seem darker. 'Who told you that?' he says.

'Which one?' I answer mockingly. 'What went on with you and Vex is common knowledge, and all you have to do is say your name in conjunction with Tonilia's and Vekel goes off on a rant about how you try to fuck anything that moves. To be honest, Brynjolf, I forget where I heard about the rest.' I pause, realising I am too on edge and upset from what happened with Mercer and the fact that Brynjolf now knows about it to bother hiding the truth any longer. 'As for Sapphire, I heard you fucking her at the Overlook the night you helped get her out of jail,' I add, remembering it vividly and feeling just as hollow as I did before. 'So I think it's pretty safe to say I'm the last woman down here you haven't had yet, despite your best efforts to convince me otherwise.'

For once, words seem to fail the redhead, and for a brief moment, he only looks at me, something burning in his eyes. He soon finds his tongue again. 'That's how you think I see you?' he says. 'Just as the last woman to get in my bed?'

'Well, if you've fucked everyone else down here, then that's basically what I am,' I say. I hold his gaze, wishing I had never brought it up but knowing I cannot let it go now. 'Why have you even bothered trying to charm me? Did you really think I would let you fuck me if I knew you were with Sapphire?' I smirk coldly. 'Or maybe you're not really interested in her and she's actually nothing more than just a _good lay_ to you?'

'Don't twist this into something it's not,' Brynjolf snaps, rising to my taunt as anger flashes in his eyes again. 'Look, I care about her but there's nothing between us and hasn't been in a long time. She needed a friend that night. I wasn't going to leave her by herself. She was scared, Wren, she'd just been thrown into a cell.'

'For about five minutes before you rescued her and made sure she paid you back in kind,' I say scathingly before I can stop myself. 'It's true, isn't it? You really can't resist playing the hero in exchange for a pretty cunt.'

Whether Brynjolf is stunned or insulted by my words, I cannot tell, but he stares at me for several long seconds, a frown forming at his brow as some comprehension seems to dawn on him. 'Why were you at the Overlook that night?' he says slowly.

'Why?' I repeat, folding my arms. 'What does that even matter?'

He holds my gaze for a second longer before a grim smile pulls at his mouth and he shakes his head. 'Mercer,' he mutters under his breath. 'Son of a bitch.'

'Mercer's got nothing to do with you and Sapphire,' I say, not wanting to think about the Guildmaster or the night he sent me to the Overlook. _He_ _wanted this to happen,_ I realise with a jolt, and despite knowing this is down to Mercer's machinations, I cannot help but feel as hurt as he intended. 'Look, you're free to do whatever you want, and so is Sapphire,' I say before Brynjolf can speak. 'I just would've appreciated being told that there was something between you two. I never would've let myself fall for you if I'd known that you-'

'Let yourself fall for me?' Brynjolf interrupts, before I even realise I've said it. His green eyes hold mine, the anger suddenly vanishing to be replaced by something else I cannot read. 'What do you mean, _fall for me?'_

'Fall for your bullshit,' I say quickly, harshly, not wanting to admit how far I really fell, and suddenly I decide I would rather show my fury than expose any other feelings I might have. 'I almost started believing all your stupid lines and pathetic attempts at charming me into spreading my legs.'

His expression hardens. 'You really think everything I've said to you was just a line to get you into bed?'

'Wasn't it?' I retort. 'Tell me, just how many times have you fucked Sapphire since you said that you didn't want to hear me with another man?' I laugh, although it's the last thing I feel like doing. 'I never even fucked the Dunmer I killed or the Nord you had me pickpocket. I could've but I didn't, and yet I had to overhear you and her together, you have no idea-'

I stop myself, suddenly feeling tears choke in my throat and knowing the last thing I want is to cry over something so stupid, although I'm bitterly conscious of the broken feeling inside me, as if I have lost something I can never get back. _Not Brynjolf,_ I think, knowing he was never mine nor ever would be. _It's my pathetic hope that I've lost,_ I realise, wondering how I ever could've fooled myself into thinking I was capable of letting someone so close to me, of _want_ _ing_ someone so close to me, despite always knowing the pain of how such things can end. _I_ _have known it since I_ _sat beside_ _the_ _corpses of the_ _people_ _I loved_ _, and since that day_ _I have_ _learnt_ _how badly a person can be hurt_ _,_ I think, and it dawns on me that I am a fool not for wanting Brynjolf but for even considering tearing my heart open for anyone.

I force back the tears and I turn away, deciding I am more than done with the conversation and having no desire to cry in front of anyone, much less Brynjolf, but the thief reaches out and takes my arm, turning me back to face him.

'Wren, wait.' His eyes catch the dim light, the fury gone, but I realise then that I would rather he be angry than serious, knowing that _I_ would rather be vicious than vulnerable.

'I don't want to hear it,' I say sharply, the tears threatening my eyes with my pathetic anger and frustration.

'I know you don't want to hear it,' Brynjolf says. 'And I know you don't believe me. Look, I get it, I know you-' Brynjolf stops suddenly, and whatever he was going to say never reaches my ears. His hold on my arm lessens, but he doesn't look away. 'You're not a game to me,' he says finally. 'Whatever else you might think, be sure of that much at least.'

I look up at him, wanting to believe him but knowing I cannot, feeling the painful racing of my heart and realising that I do not ever want a repeat of this conversation. _If it hurts now, imagine what it'll be like after I admit how I feel and then_ _one day_ _having_ _to_ _hear him fucking another woman._

'Is that another line?' I say sarcastically. 'I know it must be exhausting so you can just stop charming me, all right?' I pull my arm roughly from his hold. 'I'm not interested so unfortunately you're just going to have to lose this game and accept there's going to be one less notch on your bedpost.'

Brynjolf's expression is inscrutable as he looks at me for a moment, although I see how hard his jaw is set. 'That's fine, Wren,' he says, his tone clipped. 'I didn't come after you to try charming you into my bed. I came to tell you to be careful. I know Mercer. Trust me, one way or another, he will hurt you.'

'Trust you?' I echo, trying to not laugh as an uncomfortable shiver passes through my already tense body. 'If you think I could ever trust you any more than I could trust him, you're fucking crazy.'

Part of me regrets my words the moment I say them, but the rest of me only wishes I had said them sooner, before I let it go this far.

The thief's expression doesn't change as he stands back and gestures down the passageway behind me. 'Well, don't be out too late,' he says, his tone cold. 'You don't want to keep Mercer waiting.'

I flush scarlet at the ice in his voice. 'And I don't want to keep you from trying to fuck every woman down here,' I snap before I turn around and stalk down the passageway, fury and hurt and regret making my legs unsteady and my heart pound desperately in my chest.

 _I knew this would hurt,_ I remind myself as I reach the ladder, but despite wanting nothing more than to climb it and get out into the air, I find my hands are shaking too much to be able to hold onto the rungs. I stand and wait until I hear the sound of the Cistern door slamming shut and then I exhale, not realising I had been holding my breath. _I already knew this would hurt,_ I think again, well aware that it is my own fault for what just happened, knowing that I only have myself to blame for bringing up Sapphire and the other female guildmembers, and for showing him that I cared. _That was the stupidest thing of all._

When I feel my hands stop shaking, I climb the ladder and step out of the tomb into the graveyard. The scent of nightshade chokes me not for the first time today and I think about all the times I have tasted the bitter scent on the air or have swallowed it down. _Mercer, Astrid, Grelod and her guests,_ I think, feeling my stomach twist sickeningly, knowing that I have had my dignity, heart and body broken already and feeling starkly certain that entangling with Brynjolf would break all three at once.

I realise then that a light rain is falling and that I am still holding the paper from Mercer in my hand, except now I have balled it up into a tight knot. Deciding that doing a job would be a welcome distraction, I unfold the paper and look at the address written there before stuffing the note back into my pocket and pulling up my hood against the rain.

The store is on the other side of the city and I walk there slowly. As Brynjolf promised, the job poses little challenge to me, and as the owners sleep soundly upstairs I empty the contents of their safe into a satchel I find in the store. I also pocket a few trinkets for myself before I slip back out into the cool damp evening, not feeling the usual thrill of satisfaction at a job easily done.

I stay out in the streets for much of the night, walking with no purpose beyond avoiding any people I see in the alleys. The rain eases off a few hours before dawn, by which time I am soaked, with my shoulders aching from the weight of the satchel and my legs exhausted from walking for so long - and yet my mind continues to work as quickly as before, and I cannot stop myself from wondering again if I should even return to the Guild.

 _There's enough coin in this satchel to at least get me to Ivarstead or some other town nearby,_ I think, but quickly realise I have no idea where I would go or even where I _should_ go; that thought only reminds me of the reason why I chose to stay at the Guild before, when I convinced myself that Delvin would one day give up something useful about where I can find Astrid. _Even if he doesn't, she should send me another contract soon,_ I think, desperate to hold on to that tentative link with the assassin, regardless of what I must do to earn it. The thought of carrying out more contracts after the last one sends a chill through my numb body, but I know it is the only way I might one day be able to find Astrid without anyone's help. _Though_ _I suppose I could always wait at the shack where she took me and just hope that she returns with another kidnapped victim someday._

Without direction from my mind, my feet start to take me back towards the graveyard. As I walk, I steel myself for whatever and whoever I might encounter when I return to the Guild; by the time I reach the tomb and the first grey tendrils of dawn are working their way through the night sky, I am resolved to pretend as if the conversation with Brynjolf never happened and I will never let my feelings get the better of me again.

Fortunately, when I unlock the Cistern door and walk inside, the redhead is nowhere to be seen, nor are any other guildmembers; as I half-expected, the only person in the Cistern is Mercer, who has stayed up to wait for my return. _Just like he did after he sent me to the Overlook, knowing what I would find there,_ I think, remembering the satisfaction in his eyes when I returned with my pathetic broken heart and seeing the same expression on his face now. _I_ _t's all worked out exactly as he planned,_ I realise as I walk over to him, and suddenly I feel like I have become little more than a puppet whose strings the Guildmaster toys with in whatever way he pleases _.  
_

I throw down the satchel on his desk. 'That's everything that was in the safe,' I say shortly, turning away before I can look too long at the smug smile at his mouth.

'Not so fast. I need to check it before you go running off.' Mercer walks around his desk and opens the satchel. 'I'll be sending you back if it's not all here, you know.'

I fold my arms and glare at him as he begins emptying the satchel's contents onto his desk. 'It's all there,' I say briskly.

'Patience, Wren, it'll only take a minute.' Mercer glances over at me, his eyes taking in my rain-soaked appearance, before he looks back down. 'I thought I told you to make it quick. You've been hours.'

I ignore him, not wanting to linger and certainly not wanting to talk with him.

The Guildmaster only makes a quiet snort of laughter at my silence as he sifts through the papers and coins. A minute later, when the satchel is empty and I'm sure he's satisfied himself that I've retrieved everything that was in the safe, I turn away, but I've barely moved before Mercer grabs my arm.

He pulls me roughly back to him. 'I said to make it quick,' he repeats, his voice suddenly hard and his grip the same. 'Do you understand what that means? Do you understand that when I tell you to do something, you do it?'

'I did the job,' I say, trying to wriggle out of his hold. 'Sorry if I took a walk afterwards.'

'I'm not talking about the fucking job,' he snaps, not letting me go. 'I told you to be outside my room tonight, didn't I? Or did you think that was an invitation and not an order?'

'I work for you in the Guild,' I say. 'I don't obey you outside of that. I'm not your whore.'

That makes Mercer laugh quietly. His voice lowers as he pulls me closer and his other hand closes around my neck. 'Have I ever paid you, Wren?' he says softly, as I stop struggling against his hold, my anger disappearing beneath my fear at the feeling on his hand on my neck. 'So the little bird wants to be paid for it now, does she?' His thumb runs down my throat slowly as his dark eyes hold mine. 'Fine, if giving you a handful of coins will make you co-operate, why don't you name your price?'

'We're done with this,' I snap, my cheeks flushing with humiliation and fury that he would even ask me to put a price on my body.

Mercer's other hand releases my arm and grabs my hair at the back of my head. 'No, we're not,' he says shortly, before he leans down and pulls my head close, bringing his mouth to mine in a sudden hard kiss.

I realise that for all the time I have spent with him, for all the things he has done to me and I to him, it's the first time we have kissed. I can only stand in shock as his mouth presses against mine, my mind racing at the feeling of another's lips on mine, remembering how it felt to be kissed by the auburn-haired thief in the alley and how it felt to _want_ it for the first time.

Mercer breaks away before I can even process my thoughts properly, and as I look up at him in bewilderment, his dark gaze flickers over me, and for once I don't see the mocking derision in his eyes. 'Brynjolf is a fucking idiot,' he says, before he lets go of me abruptly and walks away.

I stand numb as I watch him stride off in the direction of his room, my body in shock. Eventually, my mind reconnects with my body and I walk slowly over to my bed, unsure what to think. _Or if that even just happened._

I sit on the edge of my bed and remove my daggers from my thighs, thinking momentarily about getting beneath the sheets but I know sleep is far beyond me tonight and I have little desire to be in the dark with nothing but my thoughts as a distraction. Instead, I retrieve the healing spell book from under my bed and pick up where I left off, not sure why I keep trying to learn the spell when it is clearly beyond my capabilities. It's not long before I come to the same conclusion as before and I throw the book back under my bed.

 _Besides, you can't heal everything,_ I think, before I stand up, not wanting to sit and let my mind wander. I consider going back above ground but quickly decide that I cannot bear the scent of nightshade again today, much less the memories it brings. When I think about getting drunk in the Flagon, I realise Sapphire must be in there, and maybe Brynjolf too, and the thought of speaking with either of them makes my stomach twist uncomfortably. _They both know how weak I am now._

I pick up and toy with the Blade of Justice, thinking I could go to to the training room and take out some of my anger on the training dummy, but I realise it is not anger that I feel clawing at my stomach, and a few moments later I tuck the dagger back under my pillow and leave my bed, knowing there is only place left for me.

 _The entire Guild will know soon enough,_ I think as I walk to Mercer's room and come to stand before the closed door. _Sapphire knows. Brynjolf knows. What else have I got to lose now?_

I knock once on the Guildmaster's door.

He leaves me waiting for what feels like hours. When he finally opens the door, his gaze flickers over me, although I scarcely feel the effects of his gaze now.

'Look who won the game,' Mercer says. 'And it's not even dawn yet.'

I see no triumph in his eyes at his victory. _He always knew he would win,_ I think, well aware that the Guildmaster's plan tonight gave him the result he wanted, with me broken and willing at his door.

'I didn't agree to your deal,' I say coldly, deciding I need to retain at least a shred of my pride. 'I don't belong to you. You can't use me however you like.'

'No?' He quiet laugh makes me realise how little he believes that. 'Maybe then you'll at least now agree to stop declaring that this is over. The minute you start saying _I'm done with this_ again, I'll remind you exactly how unenjoyable _this_ can be for you. Agreed?'

I draw my arms around my body. 'Fine,' I say, hating the word and the submission behind it, but knowing that if tonight is anything to go by, I do not have the power to end whatever this is, anyway.

'Maybe you are finally learning.' Mercer holds the door open wider, but before I've stepped up to the threshold he blocks the way again. 'Oh, but first.' He reaches into one of his pockets and retrieves a coin purse, holding it out to me with a small smile at his mouth.

I glare at him, feeling a shiver pass down my back, but before I can repeat myself that I am not his whore, Mercer laughs softly.

'It's for the job, Wren,' he tells me, although the way he looks over my body and the fact that I must take this gold at the doorway of his room sends another uneasy chill down my spine and I realise that I feel like he's not paying me just for thieving.

 _It is gold for the job, that's all,_ I think firmly, desperate to convince myself, but I scarcely believe it, even after I have reached out for the purse and tucked it into my pocket.

'Good girl.' Mercer steps back from the door. 'Now, I think we were going to see which one of us can make you come the fastest, weren't we?' He inclines his head, looking me up and down. 'Although the little bird seems rather worn out tonight. Maybe she'd rather we don't play any more games and I just fuck her instead?'

'I don't care,' I say, knowing I don't have a choice anyway.

The smirk at Mercer's mouth tells me he knows it too. 'Then get inside, Wren,' he says, standing back from the door, and I obey without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I intended to include the smut at the end of this chapter, but the rest just got way too long (where have we heard that before...) so it'll be back to smutty business as usual next chapter! Hopefully the heartbreak from this update can sustain you until next week ;)  
> Also officially over 100,000 words! Yay! :) The fact that anyone has wanted to read over 100k of my words means so very much to me. <3


	16. Underestimated

I shut the door behind me with a sharp snap. The moment I turn around, Mercer takes my shoulders and pushes me up hard against the door; I gasp at the impact but I soon forget the pain and surprise as he steps up close to me and one of his hands goes to my neck. I freeze in fear, my heart pounding faster with every second as his thumb traces slowly over my throat, knowing that with one hand he could choke the shallow breath out of me. Afraid that he intends to do it, I try to discern the look in the Guildmaster's eyes, my fear rising with every passing second until he tilts my head up sharply and leans down to meet my mouth.

His kiss is rough, his mouth forcing mine open wide to let his tongue push inside. I whimper as I try to draw breath, my body suddenly desperate for air but hindered by the pressure of his mouth and tongue. Mercer's other hand grabs my hair and pulls roughly, jerking my head to the side to allow him better access to my gasping mouth.

I clutch at his arms, the angle of my neck hurting and my breath compromised by his kiss, but suddenly I fail to notice either discomfort as warmth cuts through me, my mouth wet as it responds to Mercer's harsh kiss with more eagerness than I intended. My hands reach up between our bodies and I cling to whatever pockets and buckles my fingers can find on the chest of his jacket, pulling him closer as I open my mouth wider for him, my tongue begging him to kiss me harder.

The moment my tongue becomes fiercer than his, the Guildmaster breaks apart, leaving me gasping again both for breath and for his mouth to return. Before I can try to reach up and pull his head back down, he grabs my hands and pins them against the door above my head, my wrists hitting the wood hard.

He holds me there for a few seconds, looking down at me with derision. 'You like being kissed, don't you?' he says mockingly, his lips curling into a smile as his eyes flicker over my flushed face. 'Do you want me to tell you that you're beautiful and give you pretty flowers too, sweet little girl?'

Despite my efforts, even the cold sarcasm in his voice doesn't seem to douse the heat rising in me fast from his kiss. 'I don't want that from you,' I say honestly, trying to steady my breathing. 'I'm not stupid enough to think you actually care for me.'

'Care for you?' Mercer repeats with a snort of laughter, and a moment later he lets go of my wrists. 'Gods, I didn't think you were that pathetic.' He steps back and reaches down to start unfastening his trousers. 'Fine, if you don't want me to give you flowers, get on your knees and I'll give you something else instead.'

'I'd rather have the flowers,' I say icily, even as I feel the wetness in my mouth from our kiss and I instinctively swallow, my throat seemingly preparing itself for what I know the Guildmaster wants.

He notices my uncontrollable reaction, and I see the smug gleam in his eyes. 'I don't think that's true, is it?' he murmurs as he pushes down his trousers, his cock already hard for me. 'I know what the little slut really wants. Now kneel and take it,' he commands, and the low harshness of his voice makes my legs quiver and a second later I drop to my knees.

As I reach for his hips to support myself, Mercer grabs my wrists again and pulls my arms up above my head, pinning my hands against the door behind me as he leans his body into me, positioning himself in front of my face.

Knowing I am going nowhere and suddenly realising that I have no desire to fight, I lean my head forward and open my mouth for him, taking him in, relieved that his hands are gripping my wrists and he cannot jerk my head as brutally as he likes. My relief vanishes a second later when Mercer leans closer and pushes his hips against me roughly, forcing his cock to the back of my throat.

I whimper as Mercer starts thrusting rough and fast, driving his cock back and forth in my mouth, working against the back of my throat as I try to keep my muscles relaxed. Pinned helpless up against the door, my arms begin to ache under his tightening grip on my wrists; as he finds his pace, I focus on those discomforts, barely noticing the feeling in my throat, by now more than familiar with the forcible manner the Guildmaster likes to take his satisfaction in my mouth.

He obviously enjoys it more than usual tonight, and he comes quicker than I am expecting; after a few last fierce thrusts and with a satisfied groan, he pulls back from my throat to finish on my tongue - unprepared, I cannot swallow fast enough and I end up choking, his pleasure spilling from my mouth and trickling warm over my chin.

His breathing levelling in the wake of his release, Mercer releases my hands and takes a step backwards. His cock slides wet from between my lips and I exhale in relief as my arms fall limp to my sides, but my relief is once again short-lived as Mercer takes my chin in one hand and he tilts my head upwards to look at him.

His gaze moves over my face, a bright fire of satisfaction and derisive amusement in his dark eyes. 'Look at the state of you,' he says softly, as he runs his thumb over my chin and mouth, wiping his spilled seed from my skin. 'Finish up, ungrateful little bird.'

I hold his gaze for a moment before I open my mouth and lick his pleasure off his thumb.

Mercer makes a sound of satisfaction in his throat before he moves his hand to my cheek and brushes my hair back from my face. 'You can have another taste later,' he promises, the familiar smirk at his mouth. 'Since you're behaving so well tonight.'

He moves away and refastens his trousers, and I take that as permission for to get up from my knees. I use the door to pull myself to standing as Mercer walks over to his desk. I feel a flicker of anticipation, both apprehensive and strangely curious about what he will retrieve from the drawer, but the Guildmaster only pulls out a stack of letters. He settles in his chair before starting to flick through the papers.

I stand where I am by the door, waiting, but after a minute when I realise he intends to ignore me and simply read his letters, I feel frustration start to rise in me.

'Mercer,' I say pointedly, not in the mood to stand here waiting for him.

He glances over at me briefly before turning back to his work. 'Get undressed and lie down, Wren,' he says. 'I'll see to you in a minute.'

My frustration in no way quelled by his words, I walk over to his bed and start to undress, my fingers swift and angry over the fastenings of my jacket, preferring that he rip it from me and take me fast before I have time to question myself or what I am doing here.

I throw my clothes to the floor loudly, wanting him to hear and know that I am naked, but he doesn't pay me any more attention. I settle myself on the bed and draw the sheets over me, growing increasingly irritated with every second I have to wait.

 _Am I really getting frustrated because I want the Guildmaster to fuck me that badly?_ I think, but the thought is too uncomfortable that I push it aside and try to think of nothing, although it proves difficult when I lick my lips and taste the remnants of him.

A few minutes pass in silence until I hear Mercer curse under his breath. 'Fucking elf bitch,' he mutters as he throws aside one of the letters and picks up another, and I decide I've had enough of waiting.

'Haven't you found Karliah yet?' I say cuttingly, my impatience getting the better of me. 'Surely you should've figured it out by now.'

Mercer doesn't even turn around, much less rise to my taunt. 'If the little slut is so smart, why doesn't she figure it out for me?' he says mockingly. 'There must be something in that head of yours beyond thinking about me fucking you.'

I flush red that he seems able to read exactly what is running through my mind, but I quickly realise that it's pretty obvious what I want, considering I am sitting naked on his bed waiting for him.

'Well, she must be somewhere close,' I point out, determined to prove my head is not as empty as he thinks. 'If she's interfering with the Guild as much as she has been, she must be nearby to know what's going on.'

Mercer laughs softly. 'Maybe,' he says. 'Or maybe she's got someone on the inside.'

I look at him in shock. 'You think someone in the Guild is working with her?' I say.

He turns his head to look at me, his smirk pulling at his mouth as his gaze flickers over my body, even though I am covered by a sheet and he can see little of me. 'Oh, I wouldn't be surprised,' he says idly before he returns his attention to the letters on his desk.

I blink, thoroughly confused that he thinks a guildmember is sabotaging the Guild and yet seems not to care. 'You're not even doing anything about it?' I say incredulously.

'Who says I'm not?' Mercer says. 'Maybe in the future, Wren, just shut the fuck up about things beyond your intelligence and put your mouth to better use.'

'Maybe you should put your mouth to better use,' I retort viciously.

He laughs a harsh laugh. 'Oh, you haven't earned that yet, little bird,' he says as he tosses aside the scrap of parchment in his hand before finally rising from his desk and turning around to face me. His gaze flickers over my body. 'Drop the sheet,' he commands.

I glare at him, not moving, but my furious silence only makes him laugh again.

'Wren, do we need to go back over the basics?' Mercer starts to remove his jacket. 'I think we already established tonight that when I tell you to do something, you do it.'

'I think all we established is that I'm not your whore,' I say coldly, although I am painfully aware that is the least of the lessons I have learnt tonight. _And I don't want to think about the rest._

The Guildmaster lays his jacket on the back of his chair. 'Whore or not, if you want me to fuck you, Wren, you're going to have to drop the sheet at some point,' he says as he pulls off his shirt.

I hesitate for a few seconds, but when his hands go to his trousers once more, I obey and let the sheet fall away.

Mercer's gaze sweeps over my naked body, but he says nothing as he rids himself fully of his clothes and he finally walks over to me. He takes my shoulders and pushes me down flat before climbing onto the bed, parting my legs and moving his body over mine before he grabs my thigh and hooks one of my legs about his hip.

'Now, how best to get the little bird wet tonight?' he says as his hand moves down between our bodies. 'Maybe you want me to kiss you again, hm?'

I don't reply, focused on his hand nearing its destination and knowing he has his own answer and won't care for mine. _And it doesn't take much,_ _anyway_ _,_ I think, feeling my body's heat start to rise in anticipation.

Amusement gleams in Mercer's eyes as he looks down at me. 'Oh, I know what'll work,' he murmurs, as his hand slips between my legs to where I am most sensitive. 'Want me to call you lass?'

My breath catches as he presses his fingertip hard against my clit, but my pleasure is cut with a bitter feeling in my stomach when I register his words. 'Don't call me that,' I say sharply, not wanting to think about Brynjolf or our conversation earlier tonight.

Mercer laughs at my reaction. 'Easy, lass,' he says in a painfully accurate impression. 'Figured you'd like it.'

'Well, I don't,' I snap, which only makes him laugh again.

'Fucking gods, you're too easy to play with,' he says, before his fingers start working me fast, and before I know it, the bitter feeling in my stomach swiftly turns to a warm pleasurable tightness.

My body seems intent on proving just how easy it is, reacting as fast as his touch, my heart quickening and my thigh muscles tightening against his hand to make the feeling mount faster. I soon feel his fingers slide in my wetness, slipping further down between my legs, and when two of his fingers dip inside me, I gasp with the sudden intrusion, just as unprepared as I was when he came before.

'You know, if you want him that bad, we could both fuck you,' Mercer says as he begins moving his fingers in and out of me, making me gasp again at the roughness of his efforts. 'I'll have this wet cunt of yours while Brynjolf can fuck your mouth. I bet you'd come before we even got started, wouldn't you?'

Anger flashes through me at his words, but I find myself incapable of responding; as my body quickly gets used to him, the ache from the unyielding motion of his fingers inside me grows more pleasurable than painful and I can no sooner reply than I can try to stop the Guildmaster from touching me.

'Want me to tell him to do it?' Mercer says, looking down at me with laughter in his eyes. 'You might as well be of use to both of us, after all.'

'Just stop talking,' I manage to say, my voice faint as my breathing grows shallower.

The Guildmaster laughs. 'Ungrateful slut indeed,' he says. 'And did you just tell me to _stop talking?'_ With another laugh, he abruptly he pulls his fingers from me and pushes back up from my body. 'Get on your hands and knees where you belong, little bird, and I'll remind you who's in charge.'

I'm only too happy to obey, not wanting to talk further or see the laughter in his eyes, and I turn over and position myself onto all fours. Mercer grips my hip with one hand as he reaches down with the other for his cock, quickly making himself harder for me again.

A moment later, my arms buckle and a pitched moan escapes my lips when he thrusts inside me and drives his cock to my limits in one rough motion. I reach out and grip the bed frame with one hand, managing to steady myself in time as Mercer pulls himself out and slams back into me, his strength making me almost fall forward into the wall behind his bed and I cry out, half in delight, half in pain.

'Does the little bitch want it harder?' he says but doesn't wait for me to reply, and I doubt he would've cared what I have to say anyway, as he proceeds to give it to me as hard as ever, his breath catching with his satisfaction and effort while my keen cry fills the room. 'I'll take that as a yes.'

I ignore him, my pleasure rising just as mercilessly as he fucks me, everything vanishing from my mind as I feel heat tear through my body and I know I do not want to wait. I arch my back deeper, wanting _him_ deeper, and the Guildmaster is good enough to oblige. His fingers bury in my hips, jerking my lower body back against him as he works himself deep inside me.

He takes me hard, although I know no other way from him - and my own part in it is no different from normal either; I feel my pleasure building with every rough thrust he gives me, and ignited by my anger and my vicious humiliation of earlier, I come faster and more desperately than ever before. I brace my arms and push my ass back against him as the pleasure pulses through me, my muscles tensing and my hips shuddering as I scream out loudly, wanting to make the most of it, not wanting it to end.

Regardless of what I want, the feeling leaves me as fast as it overtook me, and I can only moan one last time as what strength I had remaining leaves my body along with my pleasure. Weak and breathless, I grip the bed frame with both hands to hold myself steady as Mercer maintains his pace, seemingly neither noticing nor caring that I can barely keep myself upright.

Where my release proved easy to achieve, Mercer takes far longer, his satisfaction already spent a short while earlier. By the time he nears his release, my breathing is levelled and I listen to his own breathing growing rougher along with with his movements, his fingers and nails digging hard enough into my hips to make me gasp in pain when he comes at last.

After he has finished, the Guildmaster takes himself from me and gets up from the bed without another word. My body weak and unsteady, I quickly turn over and watch as he pulls on his trousers and returns to his desk.

As I wait silently for him to speak, I realise how tired I am, my body exhausted beyond the overworked limpness following my release. I _t's been another night without enough sleep,_ I think, but I find myself reluctant to return to my own bed in the Cistern to remedy my tiredness, not wanting to risk running into Brynjolf or anyone else. _At least w_ _hen I'm here, there is only Mercer and my pleasure._

The Guildmaster seems inclined to allow me to stay, or at least he appears uninterested in whether or not I leave; he begins reading through the stack of letters again without paying me any more attention, and after a few minutes have passed, I realise that if he was done with me for the night, he would've dismissed me by now.

Strangely relieved, I pull the warm sheets over my body and curl up in his bed. Lying on my side, I feel a soreness in my hip as it presses against the mattress, and when I reach down beneath the covers I feel painful grooves in my flesh from the sharp pressure of Mercer's fingers and nails.

I turn over to lie on my back and I close my eyes. For a while I listen to the occasional rustling of paper and muttered curse from the Guildmaster at his desk, the sounds slowly lulling my tired body even drowsier, and before I know it, I drift off to sleep.

It feels like only moments later when I jerk awake abruptly, a rush of coldness sending a violent shiver through me as the sheets are ripped back from my naked body. Instinctively I flinch upright and my eyes snap open, but the room is darker and my vision blurry.

I look over to the desk and notice the candles are burned down low, but I have no time to consider how long I have slept, as I feel the mattress sink beneath another's weight and strong hands take my waist.

'I think I made you a promise,' Mercer says, as he moves to kneel beside me. 'Wake up, sleepy little bird.'

Too disoriented to resist and with no idea what he's talking about, I let him position my body where he wants me, half-lying on my side with my head near his lap. Then I realise he is naked, and hard, and I understand why he has woken me.

I do my best to prop myself up on my arms and support myself as Mercer's hand slides up my neck to take a handful of my hair, jerking my head closer to him. I open my mouth for his cock before he has time to demand it; too tired to struggle or to attempt to wake myself up, I close my eyes and do my best to suck down on him as he swiftly starts to move my head back and forward, the painful angle of my neck registering only vaguely in my half-consciousness.

The Guildmaster seems to prefer my resistance than my silent obedience, as his fingers knot tighter in my hair, pulling at my scalp as he forces my head to move faster and his cock deeper. Knowing he wants a reaction, I give it to him, whimpering with each rough motion, not entirely having to pretend - and with my efforts, it's not long before I have my second taste of him, just as he promised earlier. This time, and despite my sleepiness, I am quick enough to swallow every part of him.

After he is spent, Mercer lets my head rest on his lap, one of his hands stroking my hair. I am more than content to lie there closed-eyed for a while, my neck sore and my body begging to rest uninterrupted.

'You're far more agreeable when I've worn you out,' the Guildmaster says softly above me. 'But nowhere near as amusing. Go back to sleep, little bird. You can try to entertain me better tomorrow.'

He lifts my head from his lap and gets up from the bed. I curl up where he leaves me, wrapping myself in the sheets as I hear Mercer return to the desk and pull out a fresh candle from his drawer.

Vaguely I wonder if the Guildmaster ever sleeps. The thought unnerves me, uncertain which is worse, the thought of Mercer always being awake or the thought of him joining me in the bed while I am sleeping oblivious and defenceless, but I have barely a moment to consider it before my eyes close and without another thought, I slip into unconsciousness once again.

 

_Blue-grey hands grip my hips, red eyes watching the movement of my breasts as I ride him._

_'Lynna,' he murmurs. 'I don't want to pay. Don't make me pay.'_

_Although I try to convince myself I don't want to do this, I know I cannot help myself. 'The price must be paid,' I whisper, and suddenly his throat opens wide to me, exposing itself without provocation from my bladeless hands, blood flooding our bodies, covering me hot and wet._

_I look down at the dead man_ _and_ _still my movements, wondering what to do, feeling him inside me. When I am about to climb off him, hands take my hips again, but when I look down, I realise it is Brynjolf beneath me and I feel such a rush of longing that I lean down and bury my mouth against his, my hips quickly rocking once more, wanting the feeling to rise_ _again._

_Brynjolf laughs against my lips. 'Little bird, you're too easy,' he says, but it is Mercer's voice I hear, and from behind I feel fingers knot in my hair, pulling me upright and away from the thief beneath me._

_Mercer stands beside_ _me and the thief_ _, his hand twisting my head to the side to face him. 'You want to pay the price?' he says, and as he leans in, I tilt my head and open my mouth for his cock eagerly, gripping his hip with one hand as the other rests on the thief's chest beneath me, feeling both of them inside m_ _e._

 _As I please the Guildmaster with my mouth, Brynjolf's hands snake up to my breasts and I grind against him faster, desperately, hearing his groan of pleasure and wanting to hear it louder -_ _but it is Mercer's satisfaction I cause first, and he_ _grips my head in both hands as he finishes._

 _It spills from my lips as I gasp out in pleasure, moaning not choking, wanting the taste,_ _to drink it down and let it wash my body clean_ _. But when I look down, the warmth gushing over my neck and breasts is bright crimson._

 _'Lass,' Mercer says, keeping my neck twisted to face him,_ _and instead of his cock he holds a dagger, my dagger, the Blade of Justice pointing at my throat. 'I've a contract for you. Come and get it.'  
_

_'No,' I start to say, but the_ _torrent from my mouth continues, gushing warm over my_ _entire_ _body, hot blood coursing over me and through me,_ _and I feel myself drowning_ _, choking-_

 

I wake with a jolt, entirely disoriented, blind in the pitch dark and with my body covered in a sheen of sweat. My head is at a funny angle and I find that I am curled awkwardly halfway down the bed.

Then I realise I am not alone, and remember whose bed I am lying in, and I writhe up from under the sheets to find Mercer lying beside me, little more than a shadowy figure on the bed in the darkness - but when he speaks, I don't have to see him to picture the smirk at his mouth.

'Sounds like you were enjoying your dream,' he comments before he rolls over and turns his back to me. 'You can take care of yourself if you want to get off. Just keep it down. I'm trying to fucking sleep, bird.'

I don't move, trying to master my breathing, my pulse still quickened from my dream. _And it was just a dream,_ I tell myself, although I find myself bringing it to mind all too vividly, and I feel my body burning viciously hot as if I really was in the throes of pleasure at the hands of both the redhead and the Guildmaster.

Knowing I could never find my clothes in the darkness and not wanting to ask Mercer to light a candle for me, I settle back onto his bed, curling up as far from him as I can without falling off the edge of the mattress. Suspecting that sleep is beyond me and my uncomfortably warm body, and not feeling entirely at ease with the Guildmaster lying beside me anyway, I intend to keep my eyes open and stay awake - but as the minutes pass, I feel my eyelids growing heavy and the exhaustion starting to weigh down my tired limbs. Eventually, as I lie in the dark, the heat of my body cools and the memory of my dream fades, and soon too does my nervousness of having the Guildmaster lying beside me.

 _At least_ _I now know that_ _Mercer does sleep,_ I think before my consciousness slips from me once more, and this time, I sleep with no dreams.

 

*

 

I fall into a new routine quickly. My days I spend training with Rune or above ground trying to make what gold I can. Jobs grow scarcer still, with Vex outright refusing to give me what work she does have and Delvin apologetically admitting that he too has given the jobs to longer-standing guildmembers. _And I won't be getting any work from Brynjolf again,_ I think, but I don't let my mind dwell on him for long, content to avoid the auburn-haired thief and pretend that our conversation in the Cistern passageway never happened. He seems to share the sentiment, as I see no sign of him for almost a week.

I have no desire to avoid Sapphire, but I soon become painfully aware that although I have not lost her friendship or company, I have lost some of her respect. The raven-haired thief does not bring up the subject of my involvement with Mercer again, but she cannot disguise the look in her eyes in the early hours of the morning when I leave her and Rune in the Flagon, claiming tiredness and announcing that I am going to bed. _I do go to bed,_ I think, but it is the Guildmaster's bed I find myself in every night for a week, and sleep is the last thing I get there.

I become used to nightshade. One quiet morning, I make enough of the bitter tea to keep in a bottle beneath my bed. Despite getting used to the foul taste, the memories it brings are just as potent as always, as if the wounds are fresh made, and as the days pass, I grow more and more frustrated that I receive no letters from Astrid. Although Mercer is good enough to let me vent my frustration, I cannot completely ignore the simmering fear and anger inside me, my heart hardening with the painful knowledge that I am still no closer to the assassin. One day, I consider briefly that Mercer might have withheld Astrid's next contract from me, that maybe she has requested I kill someone of importance to him. _Or even Mercer himself,_ I think, wondering how I would do it, whether I would kill Mercer Frey the way I killed the Dunmer; I imagine riding the Guildmaster as I drive a dagger through his throat, and the thought gives me more pleasure than I expected. _He's not the type to want a woman on top,_ I remind myself, quickly pushing the thought from my mind, knowing I have more chance of becoming the High Queen of Skyrim than I have of killing the Guildmaster in his bed. When I ask Mercer whether Astrid has sent me any letters, he tells me he has better things to do than withhold my contracts and directs me to the Ratway if I'm so keen to get my blades wet.

I readily believe him when he says that he has other things on his mind, seeing first-hand that the Guildmaster's own frustration is growing over his lack of progress in hunting down Karliah and knowing that he has little concern for my own affairs. _I'm the last thing on his mind,_ I think, knowing I am little more than a willing body in his bed. I try not to acknowledge the fact that I don't seem to mind that that is all I am.

It's a week after my confrontation with Brynjolf that Rune and I return to the Cistern in the late evening to find it more crowded than I've ever seen the place, with a throng of people over in the kitchen alcove, excited voices echoing in the cavern louder than the water.

 _Were there always this many guildmembers?_ I think, counting at least twenty and not recognising over half of them, their faces as unfamiliar as strangers although I assume some of them must sleep in the Cistern in beds just along from my own.

'What's going on?' I ask Rune, although he has spent the day with me watching the streets while I rob houses.

Before Rune can reply, I hear a loud burst of laughter, and when I look, I realise Brynjolf and Vex are in the middle of the group and the redhead is regaling them all with some dramatic tale. I catch only a few words, but from what I do hear, it sounds like they've made a successful robbery.

'I guess their heist paid off, then,' Rune says, clearly listening in just as I am, and when I look at him quizzically, the dark blond thief glances back at me. 'Brynjolf and Vex were planning to rob Mistveil to get hold of the Jarl's signet ring. Didn't you know?'

I shake my head, suddenly feeling twice as disconnected from the Guild and their celebration. 'Well, that's good,' I say, but I have no more time to come up with anything more eloquent to say, as suddenly Brynjolf's gaze flickers over to where Rune and I stand by the door, and my eyes meet the redhead's as if drawn to them.

In that moment, I recall not only our argument but my dream of a week ago, remembering what cold words we exchanged and imagining how it felt to kiss him, and I am filled with such a desperate sense of regret and longing that I look away quickly, realising I do not want to be near anyone right now, much less Brynjolf.

'Let's go see the spoils,' Rune says, oblivious to my thoughts, and he starts to walk towards the group, who are opening bottles and pouring mead.

I hold back. 'I'm going to trade a few things with Tonilia first,' I lie. 'I'll come back in a minute.'

The dark blond thief seems caught up in the excitement enough that he only nods in acknowledgement of my departure, for which I am glad, preferring to be unquestioned and ignored - although I am distinctly conscious of the feeling of being watched by someone as I go the long way around the Cistern towards my bed. _That's not so unusual now,_ I think, knowing that most of the Guild is aware of my association with Mercer and having felt the male guildmembers' gazes more and more frequently as they try to decide whether I am up for the taking or if the Guildmaster has claimed me for his own personal use. _Another reason to stay away from all of them,_ I think, knowing I am not in the mood for banter, harmless or otherwise.

I open my chest and deposit the scant few items I stole today and retrieve instead the healing spell book. Tucking it beneath my arm, I stand up and go to the only place where I know no one else goes.

Sitting on the hard stone floor outside Mercer's door, I open the tome on my lap, nearly at the last few pages now, having needed its distraction more than once in the past week.

As I listen to the echoes of the noise and laughter, I read the last few pages of the spell tome, although it takes me what must be an hour to get to the end. When I finally finish reading the final page, I close the book and put it down beside me, wondering if I have absorbed any of the knowledge and instruction I have read. _Mercer says I am a slow learner,_ I think, before I push aside the thought, not wanting to cloud my mind with thoughts of the Guildmaster or our lessons.

I lift my right hand and spread my fingers, focusing myself. Doing my best to ignore the sounds of celebration from the Cistern, I close my eyes tight and try to cast the healing spell.

Nothing seems to happen. I clench my fist and open it again, channelling what strength I have in me down to my hand. _I can do this,_ I think, convincing myself. _I need to do this._

When I feel warmth fill my hand, my eyes snap open eagerly, but in my surprise I only catch a flicker of soft white light in my palm before it vanishes. I quickly try again, feeling my heart beating faster as I attempt to cast the spell once more - and when a bright light glows from my hand a moment later, I stare at it in shock, barely able to believe that I have managed to create it.

The pleasant warmth in my palm sets excitement running through me and I find myself eager to test the spell's power. I let the glow fade and quickly reach down to my thigh, unsheathing the Blade of Justice, its weight more comforting and familiar in my hand than the magic.

Without hesitation, I draw the dagger across my little finger on my left hand, lightly and carefully, but even the faintest graze from the Blade tears my skin and I gasp in pain as blood spills forth. I drop the dagger to the ground and cast the spell, feeling a thrill chase through me when I hold my warm glowing hand close to my cut finger and I watch in amazement as the blood cease to flow and the wound closes.

Before I can marvel further, the glowing light vanishes, and no matter how hard I try, I cannot summon it again.

 _It'll take time to master it,_ I tell myself as I bring my finger to my mouth, sucking away the blood and examining my untarnished finger with satisfaction. _And_ _when I do,_ _I will be able to protect myself far better._

My sense of triumph disappears as abruptly as the healing glow. _Now if only Astrid would inflict no other damage beyond pricking my finger,_ I think, trying not to feel the cut of pain in my heart when I think of how much damage I have seen the assassin cause and knowing that a minor restoration spell is going to help me little against her.

I throw the book to the floor and sheathe the Blade of Justice at my thigh once more, suddenly feeling twice as frustrated as I was before I cast the spell. I draw my legs up to my chest and listen to the echoes of laughter, trying not to think or feel the despair rising in me.

Fortunately, I don't have to wait very long for my night's distraction. When Mercer appears suddenly from the darkness a short while later, I jump in surprise, not having heard his footsteps or caught sight of him until he stands right beside me.

He is in a noticeably foul mood to match my own. I cannot ignore the tension in his shoulders and the scowl on his face, and as I scramble to my feet, his eyes flash dangerously and something flutters fast in my stomach, telling me to keep my distance tonight, warning me against spending any time with him - but I know it's too late and I have no desire to be alone with nothing but my thoughts of Astrid and my fear that I will never enact my justice. _The thought makes me want to scream, and I know Mercer can give me a reason to do that._

The Guildmaster says nothing as he unlocks his door and walks inside. I follow him silently, closing the door behind me and standing just inside the room, watching as Mercer pulls off his jacket and shirt and throws the garments onto the foot of his bed with more violence than necessary. I linger near the door, keeping my own clothes on, suddenly cautious to be naked around him just yet.

He seems to have little interest in making use of me, as he leaves his trousers on and goes to his desk, settling in his normal place there and opening a new stack of letters, ripping one to shreds after a moment's glance and picking up the next with a muttered curse.

I sit down on his bed and wait a while for him to finish, but the minutes crawl by slowly and I feel my irritation soon start to rise, impatient for him to take me and make me work out my growing frustration.

'Want me to help?' I say eventually, knowing he is still looking for word on Karliah and thinking he would get through the letters twice as fast if I read them too.

It's the wrong thing to say. 'Do I want your help?' Mercer repeats, pausing with his hand on the next slip of paper. I hear the derision in his voice. 'Did you really just ask me if _I_ want _your_ help?'

'Clearly you need _some_ help,' I say sharply, his words provoking my irritation far quicker than usual. 'It's been over a week since you found out Karliah was messing with you and yet you're still no closer to finding her.'

'Shut the fuck up,' the Guildmaster snaps, his temper sparked by the subject as easily as ever. 'You're testing my patience and I'm starting to think having you thrown out on the streets or spending the night in jail might be the only way I could get some fucking peace around here.'

'What, you're going to march me to prison yourself?' I say sarcastically before I can stop myself. 'Sure, Mercer.'

My tone doesn't do anything to help his own anger. 'You think I'd have to walk you there myself? With just a few words, I can arrange for your little ass to spend a night or a year in jail,' he tells me. 'Maybe after a couple of turns on the rack or at the hands of the guards, you'd learn your fucking place.'

'If you did that, I'd turn you in,' I retort. 'Leader of the Thieves Guild? I bet the Jarl would love to hear all about where to find you.'

Mercer laughs coldly. 'You could. You might even manage to get me in a cell for a few hours. But when I got out, I would hunt you, little bird. And no amount of begging would save you then.'

'Well, while you're in jail, at least you could ask the guards for their help,' I suggest mockingly, deciding to ignore his threat, fearing his vengeance far more than the thought of spending a night in jail. 'They'd probably do better at tracking down Karliah than you.'

'You think so, do you?' Mercer's voice suddenly becomes quiet, more dangerous than the vicious fury of before, and when he turns around to look at me, I immediately regret provoking him as much as I have, wishing I had just kept my mouth shut.

A cold smile pulls at his mouth and his eyes narrow as they search mine, his gaze hard and icy, steadily turning my own fury to uneasy nerves, my body tensing as the seconds pass.

Finally Mercer breaks the heavy silence. 'Did you really think Brynjolf would go near you?' he says. 'Beyond maybe a quick fuck, I mean.'

Caught off-guard by the change in topic, I fold my arms. 'We're not talking about this,' I say.

'I think we are.' He inclines his head. 'You think he would've wanted a little whore like you? He knows what you are, you really shouldn't be surprised he'd rather fuck every other woman down here.' Mercer pauses. 'He knows how many men have had you.'

I stare at him, an inexplicable chill going down my back. 'You don't fucking know how many men I've been with,' I say coldly. 'Neither does Brynjolf.'

His eyes glitter with amusement. 'You were in Honorhall for ten years,' he says. 'It's not hard to guess.'

I freeze. Cold shock overtakes both my anger and my unease, leaving me strangely breathless, but before I even think about speaking, the Guildmaster gets there first.

'You know, I'm surprised you're still so tight,' Mercer says casually. 'But I suppose they didn't all fuck you, did they? Some probably just looked at you and touched you. And you touched them. Your little mouth has probably tasted more cock than half the whores in Riften.'

I feel the air taken out of my lungs. I try to speak but fail, unable to process the realisation that Mercer knows about what happened to me at Honorhall and feeling my memories pushing at the edge of my mind, desperate not to let them form fully.

Mercer laughs at my struggle to find words. 'You think I didn't know where you came from? You think I don't know everything that happens in this city?' Mercer stands up from his desk, his amused gaze flickering over my body as I sit numb and frozen on his bed. 'Poor stupid little bird. You still underestimate me, don't you?'

Suddenly I cannot stop my mind from racing to the memories of Honorhall, as if drawn to them like a moth wanting to be burned. I imagine those men, cold and faceless in my memories, doing to me what Mercer does, fucking me, bending me over, pinning me down, taking me however they could. _And women,_ I think, remembering that twisted desires are not the province of men alone, remembering hands, remembering laughter, remembering hard gazes, all of it leaving me with nothing but a child's frightened dread deep in my stomach.

 _It wasn't like that,_ I force myself to think, reminding myself that the guests were infrequent occurrences, that Honorhall was no brothel or back-alley business selling bodies like meat. _What happened was infrequent enough not to matter or_ _to_ _think about ever again._

Despite some part of me knowing it to be true, and wanting nothing more than to forget, I find I can still only sit there in numb silence, pitiful terror rushing through me to think that a man like Mercer knows my vulnerability, that I am capable of being hurt so easily.

Mercer continues to watch me, clearly enjoying my pain. 'And then you went and killed an innocent old woman, didn't you?' he says tauntingly.

'Innocent?' Violent fury flares in me, hot and painful and making me forget everything else. 'Grelod was a twisted bitch who exchanged children for coin,' I say viciously. 'The fucking cunt got what she deserved.'

He only smirks at the words coming out of my mouth, hardly offended by my language. 'Poor little bird.' His voice is mocking. 'Did the nasty men touch you in bad places without your permission?' He laughs. 'You probably secretly liked it though, didn't you?'

Fury and cold nausea turn my stomach. 'And you were probably one of Grelod's guests, weren't you?' I spit. 'You're the sort of man who'd enjoy that.'

'Don't fucking insult me,' Mercer says, anger flashing dangerously in his eyes. 'What would I want with forcing myself on a frigid little child? All I have to do is snap my fingers and you get wet for me.'

'Fuck you,' I snap as I stand up and cross over to the door, barely feeling the pain inside me, knowing that I just want to get out and get away. _Even though I know there is nowhere I can run from myself._

'Hold it there,' Mercer says sharply from his desk before I can reach for the door handle. 'Turn around, Wren.'

Afraid of his tone, I turn my head to look at him, my hand hovering by the handle, longing to scream a vicious torrent of insults at him, longing to reach not for the door but for the daggers at my thighs, to walk across the room and drive them into his heart.

Mercer's smile twists his mouth, his eyes cold and bright with his amusement, and I am sure he knows what I am thinking. 'Go on, tell me you're done with this,' he says jeeringly. 'You know you want to. And then I'll keep my end of the bargain, and trust me, you'll realise how easy I've been going on you this whole time.'

I stare at him, suddenly unable to ignore what I have always known, that the Guildmaster is just as capable of hurting me as the guests at Honorhall. _And more,_ I think, no longer underestimating him, realising he knows far more than I could ever expect and is capable of even more.

'I'm not saying that I'm done,' I say quietly, as my skin crawls with my stupidity for ever agreeing to the deal he offered. 'I'm saying I'm going to bed. You wanted me to give you some peace. I'm doing what you told me, all right?'

He laughs. 'Easy, lass,' he says tauntingly, though that pain barely grazes my heart now. 'You seem upset. Don't you want me to kiss it better for you?'

'I'm going to bed,' I repeat, wondering how I ever enjoyed kissing him, much less doing anything else with him. Before I can give him any more opportunity to toy with me, I pull the door open and stride out, praying that he doesn't try to stop me.

I feel a flicker of relief when he lets me go and only the echoes of his laughter follow me as I stalk down the passageway, but the feeling of relief is only vague and quickly gets lost in the bitter hollowness inside me. As I leave the Guildmaster's room, through the darkness I catch sight of the healing spell tome on the ground and quickly look away as I continue towards the Cistern.

 _I'm a fool for even thinking I could protect myself with a stupid fucking spell,_ I think bitterly, feeling my fury and pain for a sharp moment before I decide not to think anymore. _About anything._

The celebrations in the Cistern are still ongoing, but I keep my head down and walk over to my bed, wanting to stay away from everyone but having no desire to go to the Flagon and spend the last of my coin on wine, knowing the risk of relaxing the walls I have built tentatively around my mind.

For the first night in a week, I curl up in my own bed, still fully clothed. I remove my daggers from my thighs, tucking the silver blade beneath my pillow for safe keeping but I find myself unable to let go of the Blade of Justice. I huddle against the wall, holding the sheathed dagger to my chest, trying to make my heart as hard and sharp as the Blade itself.

By the time the guildmembers take their drinking and noise to the Ragged Flagon and the sound of rushing water becomes the only sound I can hear, I have succeeded in closing my mind, at least partly; instead of Honorhall and Grelod, I think of my parents, and I think of Astrid, and I think of what justice I can enact in this world.

 _And the justice I will enact,_ I think, clutching the Blade of Justice to my heart. _No matter the price._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a pretty Mercer heavy chapter, didn't intend it that way but there you go, hope it's not too much. Extra smut thrown in because I withheld it from you last update, I hope I'm forgiven :) although I'm probably not, considering how much of a bastard Mercer is in this chapter. And the next one is worse. Sorryyy. Everything's coming to a head and the Guildmaster doesn't deal with stress well.
> 
> I'm also going through the old chapters and giving them a tidy up. Finding spelling mistakes is like a dagger to my heart and I am so sorry you guys have had to read them :( Honestly just cringing every time I find a mistake or inconsistency or randomly awful sentence - plus those early chapters I was still finding Wren's voice, and now I want to re-edit the old instalments to be more in-line with the later chapters. But seriously I'm just so grateful to anyone who is still reading this, because those early chapters are so awkward and like I said, the mistakes are giving me nightmares, and I'm glad you overlooked them <3


	17. Punishment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure if you've made it this far, you're not going to be offended or surprised by anything Mercer does, but I wanted to put a minor warning for this instalment for the violence and general misery - basically, this is another chapter where Mercer is a huge prick but ugh I have problems and am a bad person, sorry. I promise there are tons of lovely happy consensual smutty scenes one day in this story. Unfortunately, pain comes first. With that in mind, enjoy. And get comfy. It's the longest damn chapter yet.

Riften swarms with guard patrols following the Guild's most profitable heist in months. In the two days that follow, I learn that along with the Jarl's signet ring, Brynjolf and Vex managed to lift several jewels the size of chicken eggs and a glass ceremonial dagger, the blade crystal clear and the hilt inlaid with diamonds.

 _Or so I hear._ The goods get stashed in the vault for fencing later once the heat is down, and I never actually get to see any part of the unexpected fortune that has the Guild in high spirits.

My own spirits are not helped by the recent bounty; with the city overrun by guards hunting for the Jarl's stolen goods, Delvin temporarily puts what few jobs there are on hold, entrusting only Vex and Brynjolf to carry out a couple of client requests that cannot be postponed. While the streets fill with guards, below ground the Cistern fills with underworked guildmembers, and an empty table becomes a thing of the past in the Ragged Flagon; the place heaves with what seems like all the lawbreakers of Riften, who, like the Guild, are intent on keeping out of sight until the guards ease off their patrols and business can go back to normal.

Feeling decidedly reluctant to risk a night in jail by robbing any houses, and with the Cistern and the tavern crowded and raucous at every hour, I immediately find the new arrangements unbearable. Without any means of distraction beyond taking up the hobbies of my fellow bored guildmembers - drinking, gambling, and other less savoury pursuits conducted in the Flagon and the adjoining Ratway - my mind wanders to Astrid and her continued silence, and my temper becomes so edged that I try to keep my distance from even Rune and Sapphire, not wanting to snap at them but unable to quell my growing furious impatience.

It's two days after the successful heist that I leave Rune and Sapphire to continue drinking in the Flagon and instead fight my way through the crowds back to the Cistern, deciding to lock myself alone in the water room and let the rushing water drown out my screams of frustration that I can no longer bear to keep inside

The Cistern is noisier than ever; I barely hear the rushing water over the sounds of a heated game of dice taking place in the kitchen, where guildmembers are betting clothes as well as coin, and the men appear to be cheating more than the women. I ignore them and head to the water room, but as I try the door and find it locked, I catch the sound of faint moaning from within, and it's clear that a couple of guildmembers are finding other ways to entertain themselves and pass the time.

 _Maybe that's what I need to do,_ I think flippantly, before I remember the last time I saw the Guildmaster and suddenly my skin crawls and my stomach turns hollow and I realise the last thing I ever want is to be touched by anyone, much less by Mercer Frey. _No, I'd rather hit something, and hard,_ I think, and decide to vent my frustration with my daggers instead.

As I walk to the training room, I remind myself of the one good thing from the last few days - apparently the Guildmaster is as opposed to the overcrowding of the Cistern as I am. Having seen no sign of him around the Guild since I stormed out of his room two days ago, I find myself more than willing to keep my distance permanently. _And for the first time, there is no part of me that wants it any other way._

When I reach the training room and push open the door, I find the room occupied with a group of male guildmembers, most of whom I barely recognise, all armed with daggers and swords. They turn to look at me as I stand in the doorway, and I realise Thrynn and Vipir are with them.

'You here to join us, little bird?' the ex-bandit says, grinning. 'I hear you like a bit of swordplay.'

'Yeah, don't you keep the Guildmaster's dagger nice and sharp for him these days?' Vipir says with a snicker as I feel a blush stalk up my cheeks.

'Want to see how sharp I keep mine?' I say cuttingly, gesturing to the blades at my thighs, almost hoping that they give me a reason to draw them.

The men laugh loudly, clearly not threatened in the slightest.

'Come on, we're only playing with you,' Vipir says. 'What's the problem?'

'She doesn't want us to play nice with her,' the ex-bandit tells him, his eyes flicking back to me, bright with laughter. 'From what I hear, the bird likes it rough, don't you?'

I flush red, humiliation burning through me. 'Talk to me again and I'll cut your fucking throat,' I snap viciously before I turn away and slam the door behind me.

I hear their laughter even from outside the room and suddenly I feel as I did that night long ago, in my too-small clothing, with a blunt carving knife in my satchel and blood still on my shoes, finding myself cornered by the three drunk men.

 _At least I know I could actually do what I threatened this time,_ I think, and for a wild moment I imagine kissing Thrynn as I did the Dunmer, having him under me, enjoying the touch of his hands before burying the Blade of Justice deep in his neck and making him pay the price. _Gods, am I actually that blood hungry?_ I scold myself, before I realise that is not a question I want to dwell upon, when I have killed so willingly in pursuit of one woman's blood.

My mind distracted, I don't notice I am walking right into the path of the Guildmaster until it is too late. With my head down, I hurry around the edge of the Cistern back towards the Flagon, passing by the passageway leading to Mercer's room just as he strides out of the shadows. As I catch sight of him out of the corner of my eye, I start walking faster, not in any sort of mood to talk with him or indulge any of his other commands, but a second later he grabs my waist from behind and stops me in my tracks.

'Slow down, little bird,' Mercer says, pulling me back to his body as he presses up behind me. 'Why the hurry to fly away?'

I struggle to free myself, conscious of the guildmembers nearby in the kitchen and in no mood to let Mercer toy with me at all, let alone in front of other people. 'Let me-' I start, but before I can finish my demand for him to release me, Mercer's hands go to my shoulders and he turns me around roughly to face him.

The dim warm light of the Cistern falls upon the scowl on the Guildmaster's face, the furrowing of his brow and the fire in his dark eyes, which I soon notice is no less vicious than it was two days again when I provoked him; if anything, the dangerous glint in his eyes is even brighter. _He still hasn't found Karliah, then._ As I look up at him, I suddenly feel half my size, just as I did the first time I ever laid eyes on him.

_I should've turned around and left this place back then when I had the chance._

My own bad temper must be written on my face too, as Mercer's eyes flash with cold laughter.

'Oh, come on, are your feathers still ruffled?' he says mockingly, and I don't have to think very hard to know what he is referring to.

'No,' I answer, my voice like ice, not wanting to discuss the topic ever again or give him the satisfaction of knowing how badly he hurt me with just a few words and the memories they forced into my mind. 'Look, I'm busy, so just-'

'Busy?' Mercer laughs a quick cold laugh as he grabs my arm, holding me in place before I can even begin to turn away. 'Like hell you are. You know you don't have much use around here unless I put you to work. Talking of which, go wait outside my room. When I come back, I'll think of some way to keep you occupied.'

I look at him stonily. 'I've got things to do,' I tell him, trying to pull my arm from his hold, no part of me wanting to go to his room ever again or repeat any of the experiences I have had in there.

A smirk twists his mouth, though I can see the impatience in his eyes and I know he has little interest in playing. 'Come on, Wren, don't make me put a collar on you and drag you there like a dog.' He makes a quick hard laugh. 'But you'd probably get off on that, wouldn't you?'

I glare at him, about to tell him exactly what I think of that idea, before I realise that I wouldn't put such a thing past him. _And even if he didn't go as far as that, I know he'd find some way of getting me where he wants me,_ I think, and with the thought of the nearby guildmembers witnessing Mercer forcibly marching me to his room with or without chains, it hits me that I have no choice but to obey. _At least, I'll agree to obey, until he leaves the Cistern and then I can hide in the Flagon or somewhere above ground._

'Fine,' I say shortly. 'I'll wait outside your room, if you insist.'

Whether or not he realises I have no intention of doing what I say, I cannot tell, as he only smirks coldly and lets go of my arm. 'You know, I've got more important things to deal with without another fucking woman giving me grief,' he tells me. 'So watch your fucking attitude, Wren, because I've got no patience for it right now.'

He doesn't need to tell me which other woman he means. With little to do besides sit around the Cistern and the Flagon for the past two days, I have heard the gossip about Maven Black-Briar, who is supposedly furious after learning that the Guild's run of bad luck has been because of one vengeful ex-guildmember - whom Mercer has yet to find and punish appropriately. _And so Maven must want to punish someone, and maybe Mercer is_ _now_ _at the receiving end of her wrath._

The idea of Mercer being reprimanded by Maven Black-Briar makes me feel considerably brighter, and bolder, and the words tumble from my mouth before I can stop them.

'I take it Maven isn't pleased that you still haven't found Karliah,' I say sweetly.

Mercer's eyes narrow with my tone of voice. 'So smart, aren't you?' he says sarcastically. 'But not quite smart enough to know when to open your mouth and when to shut it.'

'Sorry,' I say, matching his sarcasm. 'I shouldn't have mentioned it. I forgot you're terrified of getting on Maven's bad side.' I force a laugh, knowing I shouldn't but finding myself unable to resist. 'The great Mercer Frey, scared of an old woman.'

'Watch your tongue,' the Guildmaster snaps, rising to my taunt far easier than I expected, anger glinting in his eyes and the cold smirk long gone from his lips. 'Unless you want it ripped from your mouth.'

'Do you watch your tongue when you kiss Maven's ass?' I retort, unable to help myself, wanting to ridicule him and make him feel as humiliated as I felt when I was last in his room and every time before. 'When you lap like a little dog at her old wrinkled cunt, I bet you actually enjoy it, don't you?'

I see the fury flash in Mercer's eyes, but I only get to enjoy it for a second before he suddenly brings the back of his hand across my face hard. I stumble sideways and cry out with the pain but I barely have time to register how fiercely it hurts before his hand closes around my throat and he shoves me up against the wall.

'Aren't you the little firesprite now?' Mercer says as I yelp at the impact against the hard stone. 'Go on. You were saying...?'

I open my mouth to speak but his grip on my neck tightens and I can only gasp as I start to struggle to draw breath, the side of my face stinging from his hand and my heart thudding furiously with fear.

'Come on,' Mercer says mockingly, his eyes like ice as he keeps me pinned to the wall by my throat. 'You had so much to say a moment ago.' He tilts his head to the side as his hand squeezes harder and the tips of his fingers dig into my skin. 'Now you've gone quiet?'

'Please-' I manage to get out hoarsely, although it sounds more like a raspy intake of breath as I struggle desperately for air, let alone words.

'Was that _please_?' Mercer laughs coldly. 'Begging doesn't always work, bitch. And I've a mind to kill you rather than fuck you.'

I feel a deep thudding in my head and my eyes start to water. I stare up at him, my hands clutching uselessly at his arm as he holds me easily by the neck. His smile is cruel and I realise in that moment that he is not only capable of doing it but entirely willing to choke the life out of me here and now.

Terror courses through me and I try to beg again, to wrench his arm away, but the pressure against my throat means I can do nothing but splutter as my hands clutch feebly at his arm.

Distantly through the pounding in my head, I hear familiar voice from somewhere across the Cistern.

'Mercer! Let her go.'

'Stay the fuck out of this, Brynjolf,' Mercer spits viciously, turning his head as out of the corner of my eye, I see the auburn-haired thief striding across the Cistern in our direction. 'This has nothing to do with you.'

'Yeah, it does, if you're about to strangle a guildmember in our damn headquarters.' Brynjolf appears beside us, but he barely glances at me; his green eyes stay fixed on the Guildmaster, but his expression is only vaguely exasperated, as if Mercer is considering making a poor choice of mead rather than considering choking me to death. 'You really think now's the best time? Look, I've got enough to deal with without having to clean this up too.'

'Do you think I give a shit?' Mercer's hand tightens about my throat as he looks back at me, his eyes searingly cold. 'Disposing of one little slut is hardly going to put your fucking back out.'

'Mercer,' Brynjolf says, his voice shorter. 'Let her go. I'm not asking.'

Mercer's gaze flickers back to the redhead and he laughs. 'Fuck's sake, Brynjolf, you just didn't listen, did you? A whore with half a mind can do what she does and would know her fucking place too.'

His hand still around my throat, Mercer pulls me back from the wall before he suddenly shoves me down to the ground. I am just quick enough to get my hands out in front of me to stop myself going head-first into the hard stone; a gasping cry of pain escapes my raw throat as my hands and knees hit the floor hard and I desperately try to draw breath.

'There,' the Guildmaster says, though I barely hear him over the blood thudding loud in my ears. 'Maybe you'll finally start learning where you belong, bitch.'

I struggle to my knees, heaving deep breaths as I clutch gingerly at my neck, but Mercer's sudden hard kick to the side of my stomach sends me down flat to the ground.

'Do you think you can speak to me however you want just because I like fucking you?' Mercer says over my cry of pain, my body instinctively curling in on itself. 'Talk like that again and I'll cut your tongue out.' He steps back from me and turns to Brynjolf. 'And if you interfere again you'll regret it,' he snaps.

'I'm looking out for you,' the thief replies mildly. 'I'm too old to be hiding dead bodies, Mercer, all right?'

'Like hell you are. Well, you can have the bitch. See if you can train her to use that fucking mouth of hers as she should.'

Through the shocked numbness of my body, I suddenly feel hands at my hips and legs, and I recoil from the touch, trying to push myself up and move away from the groping hands, but the Guildmaster is both stronger and quicker than I am, and before I can stop him, he rips the Blade of Justice and my silver dagger from my thighs.

'Let's see how brave you are without your little knives,' he says as I scramble desperately to try to grab my daggers from his hands, even as I know it is a useless endeavour; Mercer steps easily out of my reach, laughing a cold laugh as he glances down at me with such threatening ice in his eyes that I immediately shrink back to the ground, terrified.

Without another word, the Guildmaster turns and disappears down the passageway leading back to his room, and a few moments later, I hear his door slam.

In the seconds that follow, I suddenly become aware of the silence in the Cistern; even the rushing water seems distant to my ears, as I realise that all the guildmembers in the room are looking over and have witnessed my humiliation.

_And I am still here cowering on the floor._

I force myself to my feet, stumbling on my weak legs and nearly falling back to the ground before I feel strong hands take my arm and help keep me upright.

With Brynjolf's touch, I suddenly remember with a rush all the times he has touched me, from when he pulled me back from the men outside the Bee and Barb and when he helped me climb down the ladder to the Guild for the first time, to the night he pinned me to the wall in the alley and kissed me, to the last time we spoke, when he stopped me from leaving, when he held my arm in the passageway and told me I wasn't a game to him. _And I said far more than I ever should have._

'Don't,' I say viciously, pulling away from Brynjolf just as viciously as I push away the memories. 'I'm fine, all right?'

'You think I'm going to fucking believe that?' the thief says sharply, the mildness of his voice now gone and his expression like thunder; when he looks at me, his eyes flash with fury, although I cannot tell who it is directed at or why, whether he is angry at Mercer or at me for letting it happen.

 _He knows everything I've let happen_ _,_ I think with an uncomfortable jolt, suddenly remembering what Mercer had said the last time I was in his room, that Brynjolf was aware of where I had come from before I joined the Guild and that he knew all about the guests at Honorhall. _Is that why he tried charming me?_ I think, wondering if the redhead saw me as easy prey, already broken in. _Or worse, he pitied me._

The thought sends nausea through my stomach and I take a quick step back from the thief. 'I am fine,' I insist, even as my body still trembles with shock and the impact against the ground. _And that's least of all._ As I draw my arms around my body, I feel the sharp soreness under my rib from where Mercer kicked me, and the side of my face still stings fiercely from the back of his hand. I swallow, trying to soothe my throat, and force the words to come. 'Really, you don't have to act like you're concerned anymore.'

'Act?' Brynjolf repeats. 'Of course I'm fucking concerned. I told you, Wren, involving yourself with Mercer was going to be bad for you. Maybe you should've listened?'

'You think this was all my choice?' I snap back, fear still twisting in my stomach. 'Like I wanted any of this to happen? Like I-' I stop myself, realising how pointless it would be to explain any of this to him, when I cannot explain it to myself. 'Look, thanks for your help,' I say quickly, aware that if Brynjolf hadn't intervened I could be unconscious on the ground at Mercer's feet right now. 'I appreciate it. But I just need a drink. Alone,' I add, and before he can argue or tell me again how right he was and how wrong I was, I turn and hurry across the Cistern in the direction of the Ragged Flagon.

Feeling the gazes of the watching guildmembers on me, I keep my head down and walk fast, not wanting to look at the expressions and find out if they are shocked or uninterested or entertained. It's not until I wrench open the Flagon door and slam it shut behind me that I stop and let myself breathe properly, though the air is stale and heavy - and rather than sitting in the tavern and trying to drink away what just happened, I long desperately for the clean and fresh autumn air that tastes of rain.

 _More than that,_ _I_ _just_ _want to get out of here, for good._

The sudden thought hits me less painfully than I expected, some part of me already having known for a while that I cannot stay at the Guild for much longer. As I stand in the passageway leading to the Flagon, trying to still my shaking hands and breathing deeply to fill my fragile lungs, I realise I have only one other place in the world I can go. _Where I need to go, at long last._

I steel myself and enter the Ragged Flagon, the noise and clamour overwhelming me the second I cross the threshold. The air hangs thick with the scent of mead and wine and skooma, and for a moment my head swims and I feel as if Mercer's hand is about my throat again. I force myself to breathe and look around, but the mass of bodies prevents me from seeing anything beyond the people right next to me, and a shiver of unease passes down my back when I realise I do not have my daggers or any form of defence.

More cautious than normal and with the tavern twice as crowded, it takes me a long time to track down Delvin. When I finally push my way to the bar, having successfully avoided two brawls and a particularly violent game of cards, I find Delvin's usual seat occupied by a Redguard, drinking his way down a line of small glasses of green liquid, and when I look around I see no sign of the old thief nearby. Remembering I left Sapphire and Rune a little earlier at a table over on the far left, I stay away from that side of the tavern as I start to search the place for Delvin, my frustration and eagerness to get out of the crowds rising fast with every minute that passes.

When I finally catch sight of him some time later, sitting at a table with a pretty black-haired Bosmer woman at his side and an array of bottles before him, I hurry over, forcing my way through another group of patrons, ignoring one man's irritated remark as I push past him and nearly make him spill his drink.

'Lovely bird.' Delvin greets me with a grin as I come to stand before his table. His jacket is slung over the back of his chair and he has his customary tankard in one hand, while his other arm is thrown lazily around the shoulder of the wood elf. 'Come to join us, eh? Since you know I've no work for you, you can't tell me this is business and not plea-'

'Tell me where the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary is,' I demand before he has even finished speaking, done with trying to dance around the issue or subtly persuade him to talk.

The old thief looks at me carefully over the top of his tankard. 'The Sanctuary, eh?' His gaze flickers over my face, a small frown weighing down his brow as his eyes linger on the side of my face, and I realise my cheek must still be red from Mercer's hand.

'Yes, where is it?' I say sharply, folding my arms, wishing I could cover my face. 'I know you know, so just tell me.'

Delvin's eyes slide back to mine and he takes his arm from around the Bosmer. 'Whatever you're thinking of doing, sweetheart, the Sanctuary isn't a place you should go in blind,' he says as he sits up straighter and rests his tankard on the table, not taking his eyes off me.

'Tell me where it is and what I'll find inside and then I won't be going in blind, will I?' I counter, feeling my irritation rising fast.

'Not blind like that, love,' Delvin says. 'You go there in the rage you're in right now and walking into a damn pine tree will be the least of your troubles. Look, you don't go entering the Sanctuary unless you've got your wits about you, and anger makes a man blind in more than just his eyes.'

'Well, I'm not a man, and I'm not in a fucking rage,' I snap, although I know at least one of those statements is a lie.

Delvin clearly doesn't believe me either, and his gaze flickers over my face again for a moment. 'Maybe you and I need to talk away from here, hm?' he says, his voice gentler than I've ever heard it before, but in my shaking fury I barely register his concern.

'Forget it,' I say coldly, realising at last that Delvin is never going to help me find Astrid or her Sanctuary. _And that means there's no point staying here any longer._

I turn around and stalk away without another word, my heart pounding with the realisation that there is nothing keeping me here. I make my slow way back to the Cistern through the crowded tavern, my mind racing and my head feeling dizzy. _I've enough gold to get me to Ivarstead,_ I think, deciding that my fanciful plan of waiting for Astrid at the shack where she held me prisoner is the only lead I have to finding the assassin on my own. _And anything is better than waiting around here_ _for nothing_ _._

Briefly I wonder if I should go to Rune and Sapphire and tell them my plans, before I feel a sickening wave of nerves over saying goodbye and I quickly decide that leaving them a note will suffice. _Like Brynjolf, they'd probably think this was all my fault anyway,_ I realise, preferring that they hate me for my abrupt and unexplained departure rather than pity me for my utter stupidity.

When I enter the Cistern, the place is strangely deserted, although I find I hardly care why, deciding that it means I can leave in peace and unseen. I hurry to my bed and drop to my knees beside my chest, but when I lift the lid, my heart seems to stop, yet I feel the blood pounding in my head just as furiously as when Mercer's grip around my neck tightened.

The chest is empty, my stash of gold gone along with the few stolen trinkets I had yet to trade. All that is left are my clothes, the empty vial from my night in the skooma den, and the carving knife that cut Grelod's throat.

I stare down at the items, my breathing feeling trapped in my chest, my heart hardening with the unavoidable knowledge of who took every piece of gold and anything of value from my chest while I was in the Flagon.

 _And he has my daggers too,_ I remember suddenly with a sickening jolt, wondering just how the hell I am going to get beyond the graveyard let alone outside Riften's walls without at least some means of defending myself.

I slam the lid of the chest shut, fighting the desire to take the carving knife and go to Mercer's room right now to demand he return my belongings. _I might as well bury the blunt blade in my own neck,_ I think, knowing there is only one way the Guildmaster will let me into his room, and that carrying a carving knife with the clear intention of cutting his throat will not help persuade him to return my coins or weapons.

Despair courses through me as I stand hopelessly beside my bed, not knowing what to do, my determination to leave the Guild suddenly thwarted and leaving me trapped at the Guildmaster's mercy once again.

 _I can just steal more gold,_ I remind myself. _And new daggers._ Despite knowing it to be true, the thought does little to reassure me, when I consider the number of guards on alert in the Riften at the moment and the fact that simply walking from the Guild to find any suitable houses for robbing is dangerous enough. More than my fear of being caught, the thought leaving the Blade of Justice and Rune's silver dagger in Mercer's hands sends bitter anger cutting through my stomach. _The Blade belongs in my hands, and the silver dagger is too precious to let Mercer sell it for coin._

Before I consider what I am doing, I leave my bed and stride through the Cistern in the direction of the Guildmaster's room. Though my body hurts in more places than one and is still on edge from what he did earlier, a curious numbness overtakes me and I find I am strangely unafraid. _He thinks I am predictable, but he is too,_ I think, knowing that all Mercer wants is my submission, and that if I give it to him, he may indulge my request, or at least give me an opportunity to steal back what belongs to me. _At least_ _I know by now that_ _he sleeps like any other man,_ I remind myself, and I consider the slim chance I might be able to rob him as he sleeps once I have satisfied his pleasure.

At his door, I do not hesitate before I knock sharply, knowing I have no choice, only wanting to get it over with and get back what is mine. _Once I have my daggers and my gold, I'll never have to see him again._

When the Guildmaster opens the door a few seconds later, I realise that the violent anger I provoked in him earlier has noticeably diminished. _Probably in satisfaction at stealing my gold and successfully stopping me from running away, as he knew I would_ _want_ _to do,_ I think as I look up at him, trying to dampen my own simmering fury at what he has done, knowing he can do far worse if I push him far enough.

'Wren.' Shirtless and with a small smirk at his mouth, Mercer crosses his arms over his bare scarred torso as his gaze flickers up and down my body, seeming unsurprised to find me at his door. I see a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes as they linger on the growing bruise on my cheek, clearly appraising his handiwork of before. 'What do you want?'

 _To get my daggers and my gold back, you fucking bastard._ I see the door being slammed in my face before I even consider speaking the truth.

I look up at him, trying to shrink down, trying to seem as small and weak as he likes me to feel. 'To apologise,' I say. 'I was out of line when I spoke to you earlier. I'm sorry.'

Mercer inclines his head as he looks down at me in silence, clearly weighing up his choices. _And deciding which will be more amusing to him._

I wait, suddenly wondering if I shouldn't have brought the carving knife with me after all, in case Mercer decides to make me pay by choking me again rather than allowing me to please him however he likes. _Or maybe he plans to do both,_ I think, and beneath my anger I feel a flicker of doubt over my decision to knock on his door.

'I think you can apologise to me better than that, can't you?' Mercer says finally, and steps back from the door.

I nod, knowing that I can, and I follow him inside.

 

*

 

The click of the lock as Mercer secures the door sends a shiver down my back, but I barely have time to think about the fact that I am now trapped in here. Carelessly and quickly, the Guildmaster strips me bare and throws my clothes to the corner of the room before he walks over to his desk. As I watch him, my gaze falls upon the items on the desk's surface and I catch sight of my daggers lying there, along with stacks of gold and coin purses, only some of which are mine. _I'll take as much as I can, if I get the chance,_ I think boldly, imagining robbing the Guildmaster blind and relishing the satisfaction that would give me.

The clink of chains as Mercer retrieves the shackles from his desk drawer distracts me from my thoughts, and I remember that my satisfaction is not the reason I am here.

Mercer turns to face me. 'Kneel,' he says, pointing to near the bed. 'There.'

I obey, dropping to my knees on the floor before the foot of the bed, exactly where he knelt when I was first in his room, when he pulled my legs apart and tasted me for the first time. Despite my anger and my unease, the memory sends a tentative flicker of desire through my stomach, yet I barely notice, finding myself more conscious of Mercer's ominous silence as he leans down to close one of the metal cuffs around my left wrist. He loops the adjoining chain around the bed frame in front of me before shackling my right wrist. When Mercer straightens up and walks away, I clutch at the edge of the bed, trying to resist the urge to turn my head to see what he is doing behind me.

After a few long seconds, I hear Mercer kicking off his boots. 'You can stand up, Wren,' he says softly.

My wrists shackled to the bed frame, the shortness of the chain prevents me from standing fully upright. I assume that he wants me bent over anyway, and so that is how I stand, my hands holding on to the rough wood of the bed frame, my heart racing as I stare down at the bed sheets in apprehension, trying to quell my growing sense of unease. _I chose this more than once in the past,_ I remind myself, only hoping that I will get some enjoyment from whatever he intends to do with me.

I hear the Guildmaster come up behind me and I ready myself, arching my back a little and gripping tight to the bed frame, but when I feel his hands grasp at my hips and he leans his groin against my ass, I realise he is still clothed.

'We're going to talk about how you spoke to me earlier.' Mercer's voice is low and sends a shiver of danger rather than desire through me.

'I won't speak to you like that again,' I say quickly. 'I swear. I'm sorry.'

'Are you?' His hands caress my hips for a moment before he steps back and lets go of my body. 'I don't think you are, little bird.'

I'm about to insist that I am when Mercer suddenly hits me, his right hand slapping the side of my ass with full force.

I cry out, half in shock and half at the sharp pain. Instinctively I try to move away, but Mercer's hands grab my hips again, holding me in place.

'Oh, settle down,' he says irritably, although I can hear the smirk in his voice. 'It didn't hurt that bad.'

'Let me fucking hit you, then,' I snap, trying to twist my body to face him or get away, but the binds hold me fast and his grip on my hips is just as unyielding.

The idea clearly amuses the Guildmaster. 'You'd like that, wouldn't you?' he says mockingly. 'Seeing as you're such a powerful, intelligent woman.' He moves away again and I feel another sharp slap across my ass. 'I'm sure you could hurt me just like that, couldn't you?'

I gasp with the hard impact of his hand, my breath catching painfully in my sore throat. 'Don't,' I say. 'It hurts.'

His laugh is cold. 'It hurts?' he mimics before he hits me again and I cry out, feeling my skin sting with the strength of his arm. 'Come on, you like it, little bird.'

'I'd fucking say if I liked it,' I say viciously, struggling against the shackles, feeling the iron cutting into my wrists as my anger rises at his words and I instinctively try to free myself from my binds.

Mercer laughs and grabs my hips again, preventing me from moving as he presses up against my ass. Through the material of his trousers, I feel the hard shape of his cock and I realise how much he is enjoying this. 'How many times have you said no and ended up begging me for it?' he says. 'Give me a few minutes and I'll make you like it. You give me a few minutes and I could make you like anything, we both know that.'

'You-' I start, but my words get lost beneath my cry of pain as he moves back to lay another hard smack against my skin, this time at the side of my thigh.

'Now I know you can cry out louder than that,' Mercer says. His fingers dig into my hips sharply, making me gasp. 'And after your little disobedience earlier, I'm in the mood to hear you scream.'

As he releases my hips, I decide to withhold from him exactly what he wants and not give him the satisfaction of hearing my pain; when he slaps me hard again, I bite my lip to stop myself from making so much as a whimper, and instead I hear the Guildmaster's sigh of irritation.

'I said I wanted you to scream,' he reminds me, leaning his groin against my ass once again, the material of his trousers scratching my skin. 'Does the little bird need some help getting started?'

One of his hands snakes around my hip and dips down between my legs, his fingers not delaying in their intent, laying rough and unforgiving strokes over my clit before I can even draw a breath and register what he is doing. Despite my determination to remain silent, I gasp sharply, both at his ungentle touch between my legs and in sheer surprise at my body's reaction - expectant of further pain and my senses heightened from the brutal strength of Mercer's hands, I feel a fierce wave of pleasure suddenly rush hot through me and I grip the bed frame hard, my legs quivering and my hips starting to rock with the relentless motion of Mercer's fingers, my core growing warmer and wetter with both the rough touch of his fingers and the feeling of him pressing hard up behind me.

Finding myself entirely unable to stop the feeling rising inside me and forgetting my fury and pain of only a few moments ago, I push my ass back against him and move deliberately against his hard cock, half-consciously wanting to encourage him to fuck me rather than hit me, but mostly with the base need to heighten my own pleasure.

Mercer seems to realise what I want. When he takes his slick fingers from between my legs and moves away, I whine in desperation, doing my best to fight my impatience as I wait to hear the sounds of him removing his trousers.

I hear the sharp slap of his hand against my ass before I feel it, my skin still stinging from the last time and my body distracted by his touch at my core, and I only gasp at the strange and unfamiliar combination of heightened pleasure and sudden pain as Mercer hits the side of my ass hard again.

'You didn't listen to me, Wren,' the Guildmaster says warningly as I try to catch my breath. 'I said to scream louder.'

'And I said it hurt,' I snap before I can stop myself, my backside sore from his hand and my frustration piqued by his touch between my legs. 'Maybe _you_ should listen to me for once.'

To my surprise, Mercer only laughs softly as his hands glide over my hips. 'Little bird, you just ask for this sometimes, don't you?' he says quietly, before he lets go of my body and moves away.

When I hear him go to desk and pull open a drawer, panic mounts uncontrollably in me faster than the pain and the pleasure. Fearing his quiet words and wondering just what I have supposedly asked for, I strain my ears to listen to what he is doing, but I do not hear the slither of chains. Instead, I hear the soft clean scrape of leather, like a strip or a belt.

'Mercer-' I start nervously as I hear him walk back to where I stand bent over at his bed, but I don't have enough time to say anything more, as I hear the swift whip of leather in the air and the sharp slap as it makes contact with my skin.

I scream as the right side of my ass sears with the kiss of the leather, the pain fierce enough to buckle my knees and send me down to the floor.

'Get the fuck up,' Mercer snaps, grabbing my waist and dragging me onto an all fours position, though my shackled hands can't reach the floor and I can only clutch uselessly at the bed frame. 'Hold on to that and don't fucking move.'

I cling to the bed, trying to pull myself up from my prone position, but before I can even move I feel the lash of the leather once more, this time across the back of my thighs.

I cry out loudly, my skin burning, and curses spill from my mouth. 'You fucking bastard!' I scream. 'You gods damned son of a-'

Another lash across my hip silences my torrent of insults and somewhere over my pitched moan of pain I hear Mercer's voice. 'I thought you said you weren't going to talk to me like that again?' he says.

I ignore him, the stinging of my skin making me wild. 'So is this what you do with Maven?' I say manically, the pain making me almost laugh with its intensity. 'Except you're probably where I am, right? That old bitch chains you up and whips you and you sing like a-'

When he brings the leather hard across my ass, I shriek with the pain.

'You just don't learn, do you?' The Guildmaster grabs my hips as I try to scramble off to the side. He pulls me back onto all fours and holds me there with one arm. Another fierce lash of the leather licks across my backside. 'Stubborn little slut, you need to learn some fucking respect.'

Tears suddenly prick at my eyes with the pain, the sensation burning through me white-hot. I grip the bed frame and force the tears back, not wanting him to see me weak, not wanting to show him a reaction, not wanting to give him the pleasure of my suffering.

But it is too late and Mercer hears my sobbing gasp of pain as he smacks the leather down on the back of my thighs once more.

He laughs harshly. 'Oh, come on, it's not that fucking bad. I'm barely leaving a mark.' I hear him drop the leather to the floor and his hands grab my waist. 'Did I play too rough with the little bird?'

I struggle to move away but his hands grasp me tightly, holding me in place.

'No, stay where you are. You move and I won't be gentle next time I hit you.' He releases my waist and his hands run over my back as he leans down over me. 'You disobey me and you get punished. Haven't I made that clear by now, Wren?'

I clench my jaw and refuse to answer, although when his fingers move down to trace over the sore skin on my ass, I have to fight to hold back my whimper of pain.

Mercer exhales a quiet laugh. 'I forget you're just a delicate soft thing,' he murmurs, moving his hands down to my thighs, touching the sensitive skin there. 'The fragile little bird would break all her bones with one tiny fall, wouldn't she?' His hands suddenly grip my thighs and he parts my legs a little before moving to kneel down on the floor close behind me. 'You'd think that means she would've learnt to be careful by now.'

A moment later, I feel his breath on my skin and he starts running his mouth along the curve of my ass, his lips light against my sensitive skin.

'You know I can hurt you but I can also make you feel so good,' the Guildmaster murmurs against my skin. 'It's always been up to you, little bird.'

I stay very still, knowing he is lying, knowing that even when I have walked to his room or asked him to fuck me, what has happened between us has never been truly up to me. _He knows exactly how to play me,_ I realise somewhere in my mind. _I came here_ _prepared_ _to submit, willingly, and yet he still has me at his mercy._

'Which do you want now?' Mercer asks, before I feel his tongue lick wide along the raw leather stings on the left side of my ass, making me jerk back in pain. His hands take a hold of my hips once again, keeping me in place. 'Shh. Don't move. Would you rather I hurt you or make you feel good?'

I hesitate, uncertain if it is a question he wants me to answer.

'Don't go silent on me,' Mercer says, his fingers on his left hand digging into the sore flesh of my hip, exactly where he let the leather strike my skin. 'I told you, I want to hear you scream and that can happen one of two ways. Now answer me. Do you want me to hurt you or make you feel good?'

'Make me feel good,' I whimper, seeing no other answer, if one is pain at his hands and the other is pleasure.

He makes a sound of satisfaction in his throat as he lessens his grip on my hips and leans down to lick over the crease where my thigh meets my ass. Even in my pain and fear and anger, I feel a tentative ache of desire between my legs, my body reacting instinctively to having his tongue so close to where I know it works so skilfully and where I know it will make my pain disappear.

'Have you earned it?' Mercer says quietly.

The question throws me and for a moment, I do not know what answer to give, or what answer he expects.

'I want it,' I say instead.

'Of course you do.' Although I cannot see him, I hear the satisfied smirk in his voice clearly enough. 'Stand up, little bird.'

The Guildmaster gets me back on my feet and bent prone over the edge of the bed once more. I grip the bed frame, trying to steady myself and ignore the searing pain in my lower body as I hear Mercer finally remove his trousers. When he presses up behind me a few seconds later, he parts my legs to let his hard length fit between my thighs, and the feeling of his cock against my sex makes my stomach flutter with anticipation and for warmth to flood my body, every inch of me desperate to grasp whatever pleasure I can get.

'Now, what have you learnt?' Mercer says as he starts working himself slowly between my thighs, grinding his cock over my core. 'If you talk to me like you did earlier or you choose to disobey me, what happens?'

I can only gasp in both pleasure and pain, his hands gripping the sore skin of my hips while his motion between my legs causes a warm ache to start rising in me. Before I realise it, my thighs tighten and clench about his cock uncontrollably, suddenly wanting to keep him there.

'Wren,' the Guildmaster says warningly at my silence, and I hurry to reply, not wanting him to use the leather again to remind me.

'I get punished,' I answer quickly. 'I won't do it again, I swear.'

'Somehow I doubt it.' Mercer starts thrusting a little faster, his hands purposefully gripping the sore flesh of my hips roughly, making me gasp with the pain again. 'The little bird seems to forget all her lessons once I make her come. Maybe that's the problem, Wren. Maybe I should stop indulging you until you learn your place for good, whether I fuck you or not. What do you think?'

'Please,' I beg, my voice more desperate than I intend as my thigh muscles clench tighter around his cock, suddenly feeling how slick he is with my desire. 'I know my place. Please, Mercer, don't stop.'

The Guildmaster only laughs quietly behind me. As he continues to work himself against my core and between the tight grip of my thighs, I find I can no sooner remember why I came to his room in the first place than I can stop myself from whimpering with pleasure as my hips arch back and I start to grind myself against his cock, trying to make the feeling come faster.

When Mercer pulls back a few seconds later, I cannot help but moan in frustration, feeling the dull expectant ache between my legs and finding it more unbearable than any of the other pains Mercer has inflicted upon me tonight.

In my desperation, I don't register the sound of the Guildmaster picking up the leather or the quick sigh as it cuts through the air before I feel the leather's hard kiss across my ass once again.

I scream loudly, with the pain and the knowledge that it is what Mercer wants.

'Please!' I cry out, clinging to the bed frame and forcing my legs to keep me upright. 'Mercer, please don't punish me anymore!'

'No?' The Guildmaster laughs. 'But you deserve it, you know that.'

'I know, I know I deserve it,' I say quickly, unable to bear the feeling of my pain and pleasure fighting for precedence, wanting only the latter. 'But please-'

He smacks the leather over my ass again, but I barely have time to feel the sharp pain or register my piercing cry before Mercer throws aside the leather and grabs my hips, digging his nails into my lashed skin as he positions himself behind me and in one rough motion thrusts his cock inside me.

I gasp and cling tight to the bed frame, bracing myself against Mercer's force. He wastes little time, quickly pushing deep into me and starting to work himself inside the tight wetness of my core, his thrusts fast and uneven, clearly chasing his pleasure as determinedly as I long for my own. When I cry out, I realise I have absolutely no idea whether it is in agony or ecstasy; the raw pain in my lower body from the leather's kiss is as fierce as the hot pleasure I get from Mercer's relentless pace as he fucks me, and I have no way of stopping my body from succumbing to either feeling.

'Who decides what you deserve?' Mercer demands over my moans a few moments later, his breath shortening with his rising pleasure.

'You do,' I gasp, my own breath feeling trapped in my lungs.

I hear him make a sound of satisfaction in his throat and his movements grow rougher, his nails digging into my sore hips to make me moan keenly with the pain again. The sound of my discomfort only makes his efforts even rougher as he works towards his satisfaction all the more fiercely, gripping my body tighter and fucking me faster until I am all but screaming and he is at his peak; finally Mercer gives a few sharp thrusts that nearly make me topple over before he comes hard with a hitched groan. He quickly pulls himself out of me to finish over my ass, his seed raining over my raw lashed skin and down my thighs, warm yet feeling like cool water on my overworked inflamed skin.

I grip the bed frame, trying to stop my legs from shaking or giving way beneath me entirely. In the seconds that follow, I listen to the Guildmaster's shallow breathing start to even out in the wake of his release. I attempt to level my own breath, wanting to settle my agitated body, knowing that the intends to leave my pleasure unsatisfied. The thought sends a desperate sense of frustration coursing through me and I have to force myself not to beg the Guildmaster to finish me off right now.

 _I did not come here for my satisfaction_ _anyway, did I?_ I think suddenly, remembering my daggers and my gold on his desk, forcing myself to remember why I am here, and why he took my daggers in the first place, and abruptly I am hit with the realisation that I am chained and bent over the bed of a man who has made it perfectly clear that he can and will kill me if he feels so inclined.

The realisation hitting me as keenly as the leather, my wild and sudden sense of desire disappears, leaving only my heightened fear. I stay still as I hear Mercer move back from my prone body, and when I hear him pick up the leather from the floor, my body tenses in apprehension, but Mercer only walks over to his desk and I hear the drawer opening and closing.

He leaves me where I am for what feels like minutes. My unease rises with every passing second, uncertain what he intends next, until finally Mercer returns to me and unlocks my shackles.

'Get dressed and fly away,' he tells me, moving away before I can even look properly at him.

I straighten up slowly, my back sore from being bent over. The areas of my skin touched by the leather sting with my movement as I walk towards where Mercer threw my clothes. I glance over at the Guildmaster, finding that he has pulled on his trousers and now leans back against the edge of his desk, watching me with a satisfied smirk at his mouth as his gaze flickers over my body, lingering on the parts of me where he has made his marks.

I dress quickly, ignoring the searing pain in my lower body as my clothes scratch my sore skin and the steadily forming bruise below my ribs from his kick earlier, and trying not to feel the residual wetness of my desire between my legs and Mercer's spent pleasure on my ass. I hesitate as I finish dressing and slip on my boots, wondering how to ask for what I came here for, wondering if I should beg or persuade or demand the return of my belongings.

When I look at him again, I realise he has picked up the Blade of Justice. The small dagger looks little more than a knife in the Guilmaster's hands as he toys with it, and he watches me with amusement in his eyes.

The sight of him holding my dagger sends irritation cutting through me fiercer than the lick of the leather, and I open my mouth to demand that he return the Blade to me, but before I can speak, Mercer gets there first.

'No, you're not having your daggers back.' He laughs a quick laugh at the expression on my face. 'What, you really thought you could suck my cock or something and I'd just hand them over to you? Gods, you're fucking stupid.'

I flush red that my intentions were so obvious from the start. 'When can I have them back, then?' I say.

'When I decide you've earned it,' he says briskly. 'Now fuck off.'

I draw my arms around my body, wondering if I should push it. _That might count as disobedience, and I don't want to receive his punishment again._ 'At least give me my gold,' I say.

The Guildmaster inclines his head, a frown at his brow. 'What gold?'

'The gold you took from my chest,' I say, trying not to let my impatience cut into my voice.

'Your chest?' he repeats. 'What the fuck are you talking about?'

'My chest under my bed,' I say sharply, unable to keep my irritation under control. 'I know you took my gold. It's mine, I earned it, so give it back.'

A small smile curls at his mouth. 'I think I took _my_ gold from _my_ chest, which was under _my_ bed,' he says. At my perplexed expression, he sighs and holds up the Blade of Justice. 'The Guild...' he says slowly, gesturing around the room with my dagger before pointing it at himself. 'Guildmaster. Are you really so fucking dense you don't get that I own this place, from all the damn chests to your own damn self? Whatever gold you make is mine. Whatever loot comes through the Guild is mine.' He inclines his head, looking across the room at me with ice in his eyes, as if daring me to argue. 'You are mine. Now tell me again, stupid little bird, who decides what you deserve and what you've earned? I didn't let you come, so the lesson should've stuck in that empty head of yours.'

I stare at him, my fury turning cold with his words, and the words I know I must say. 'You decide what I deserve,' I answer finally.

'Let's see how long you remember that before you need to be told again.' Mercer tosses aside the Blade of Justice and picks up a small handful of coins from his desk before striding over to me.

When he drops the gold in my hand, I don't have to count it to know that it is enough for a few bottles of wine but not enough to leave the city. I ignore the small smirk at his mouth, again feeling as if he is daring me to challenge him, and I shove the coins into my pocket in silence, wishing I could throw the gold back in his face and demand he return everything that belongs to me. _More than anything, I wish I could do something to stop myself from feeling like_ _a whore being paid for her time._

'Now fuck off before I make you work harder for it,' Mercer says, and I am about to turn away when he catches my arm. 'By the way, you've been playing around with your little healing spell, right?' he adds, amusement flickering in his eyes as I blink in surprise and I wonder when he has been watching me to know that. 'So go heal your face, Wren. As much as I enjoy reminding you of your place, you're supposed to give me something pretty to look at.'

He releases my arm and walks around me to unlock the door, and I waste no time in leaving without another word, knowing he doesn't expect a reply. _Only my obedience._

When I return, I find the Cistern is still deserted. _He probably ordered everyone out before he stole my gold,_ I realise as I head into the water room and lock the door behind me, confident that at least Mercer will not follow me here tonight. I strip off my clothes and stand beneath the water, but it's only a minute before the impact of the rushing water on my sore skin becomes too much to bear, and I quickly wash the remnants of Mercer's pleasure from me before stepping out from under the water's flow.

It takes me a long time to heal the bruise on my face. My hands shake and I find my mind too distracted with my pain to even comprehend what I am trying to do with the spell. After a long while, when I finally feel the warmth in my hands, I direct it quickly at the soreness at the side of my face, not because of Mercer's order but so that none of the other guildmembers will see and question it. _Although gossip will spread_ _anyway_ _from those that witnessed him choke and hit me,_ I think, keenly relieved that at least the rest of the Guildmaster's handiwork is hidden beneath my clothes and I can pretend to everyone else that it never happened.

The warmth floods my cheek as the spell soothes the bruise, and when I let the glow fade from my hand and I touch the side of my face, I feel no pain as my fingertips trace where Mercer hit me, and I can only hope that there is no physical mark left there.

The red lashed skin of my ass, thighs and hips is another matter, and although I intend to heal the pains there, I find my strength entirely depleted after healing my face and no matter how hard I try, no more of the warm white light rises to my hands, and I soon give up the attempt, resolving myself to simply try to ignore the pain until I can try to heal myself again tomorrow.

My legs weak, I long to lie down, yet I find myself reluctant and too exhausted to leave and make the journey across the Cistern between the water room and my bed. Shivering, I pull my clothes on over my wet body, preferring the discomfort of my trousers against my sore skin rather than the thought of standing naked any longer. I walk to the wall and clutch at one of the pipes, leaning myself there and closing my eyes as I listen to the pouring water.

I stand there for a long time, not bothering to empty my mind or forget what happened earlier, only trying to decide what to do next. _I could break into his room again when he's not there,_ I think, before also considering the possibility of robbing the chests of every other guildmember, which would surely yield me enough gold to get far away from here. Both ideas I discard, knowing one is as good as death and the other is a betrayal I would never consider.

 _Then_ _I'll just leave tomorrow without my daggers_ _and simply pray for the best_ _,_ I think distantly, listening to the water, although it does little to soothe me tonight; the thought of tomorrow frightens me more than I care to admit to myself, and I linger in the water room for hours, afraid of what might happen in the morning, before my exhaustion gets the better of me and I finally make my way to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I honestly can't stop smiling when I read one your lovely comments <3 I feel so honoured and grateful, thank you to those who have left such kind words and to everyone who has read this story!  
> Also, from the next chapter onwards, it will become very obvious that I am going to be changing the canon story a lot more than I originally planned. Hopefully you'll like the changes. At first I was trying to fix a few of the minor plotholes with the TG questline and just thought, fuck it, let's go rogue :)  
> PS. I really do apologise for the length of this chapter. It's literally like 10.5k and I know it is way way way too long, I just didn't know where to cut it down and I always get way too carried away writing Mercer being a bastard. I sincerely hope you survived and I will try to write more readable length chapters in the future (she says yet again) <3


	18. A Contract

I drift between consciousness and oblivion, feeling as though I am never fully sleeping nor fully awake. If I dream, the images filter through my mind too fast and distorted to make much sense to me, leaving me only with a lasting and keen feeling of dread. When I hear voices somewhere in the far distance, I don't try to listen, not sure if they are real or in my mind. Whether it is seconds or minutes or hours later, I become aware of the smell of warm wine and mead, and I hear faint laughter interspersed with a rushing sound, as familiar to me as my heart beat. _The Cistern,_ I think, feeling a strange flutter of relief pass through me to know that I am here and nowhere else.

I open my eyes to find myself lying flat on my stomach with my face buried sideways in my pillow. As I move my arms to try to push myself up, I become aware of a dull ache below my ribs, and I curse myself for sleeping in such an awkward position and somehow managing to hurt myself.

Yet when I go to roll over, I flinch as the bare skin of my thighs rubs against the sheets, and the friction of my thin nightshirt over my ass and hips sends fierce pain burning through my lower body like fire.

My breath catching with the severity of the feeling, I scramble to sit upright, which only makes the pain and my resulting panic heighten, and I am just about to kick back the covers and free my legs from the tangle of sheets when I suddenly catch sight of Sapphire sitting at the end of my bed and my heart jumps in surprise that I did not notice she was there.

'I heard the news,' the raven-haired thief says before I can even open my mouth or gather my thoughts. 'You could've told me you were leaving.'

'Leaving?' I repeat, confused, my mind still half-asleep and distracted by the soreness of my lower body as I try to settle into a semi-comfortable position.

'Mercer just told me,' Sapphire says, and with her words, my memory of my last encounter with the Guildmaster returns to me in far greater detail than I'd like.

 _And now I remember why my ass and thighs and hips are so fucking sore,_ I think, my body suddenly hot with a rush of furious humiliation as I recall my punishment at the Guildmaster's hands, although I know perfectly well that at least part of my anger is directed at myself. _Even as he whipped me, he made me wet for him,_ I think, an uncomfortable shiver going down my back as I recall the curious combination of pleasure and pain I experienced at Mercer's hands and how I begged for him not to stop giving me the former while I willingly let him cause me the latter. _He nearly killed me not a few hours earlier and I still would've come for him if only he'd let me._

I imagine what Sapphire would say if she could hear my thoughts and I quickly blush red, wishing never to think of it again, much less have anyone else know about it. I am trying to think of something to say when I properly register Sapphire's words.

'What exactly did Mercer tell you?' I say uneasily, hoping perhaps naively that Mercer has some boundaries and would not have told her the intricacies of our lesson last night. _And why would he tell her I'm leaving when he knows full well that I don't have enough coin to get out of Riften?_

'He said you had a Dark Brotherhood contract and that you'd be gone from the Guild for a while.' Sapphire's hazel eyes flicker over me uncertainly. 'He told me to say goodbye.'

My heart skips a beat as excitement flickers keen in my stomach and everything else falls from my mind with the realisation that Astrid has contacted me again. _At last,_ I think, eagerly wondering if she might have sent an invitation to the Sanctuary along with the contract and I might finally get the chance I have waited for.

Then the rest of Sapphire's words hit me. 'Goodbye?' I echo, the word frightening me inexplicably, my excitement fading as I feel cold claws start to work at my stomach. Suddenly uneasy, instinctively I start to draw my legs up to my chest beneath the covers, but the movement sends pain searing through my lower body from where the leather smacked my skin and I gasp aloud before I can stop myself.

Sapphire's concern widens her eyes. 'Wren,' she starts hesitantly, but I quickly cut over her.

'I'm fine, I just slept uncomfortably,' I tell her, eager to change the subject. 'What time is it, anyway?'

'Dusk,' she answers, and I realise I have been asleep for the entire day, despite the noise of the other guildmembers and various comings and goings of the Cistern.

 _And I thought I could be the one to wear Mercer out and steal back my daggers while he slept,_ I recall, and with that thought, I realise I need to speak with him sooner rather than later. When I glance in the direction of his desk, I see no sign of the Guildmaster there.

'Where is Mercer?' I ask Sapphire, seeing her expression harden suddenly with my words.

She doesn't answer my question. 'I heard what happened,' she says instead, her voice clipped and her eyes holding mine fiercely. 'Niruin told me Mercer had you by the throat. He hit you and kicked you, didn't he? Told you he'd cut your tongue out? And yet you want to go talk to him?'

I look back at her, not wanting to think about it, not wanting to admit that after he had done those things to me, I willingly went to his room and did more than just talk to him. 'He has my contract,' I say. 'I have to talk to him. I-'

'Fine, you clearly know best.' Sapphire stands up from my bed abruptly, her jaw set and her voice hard. 'Just don't come crying to me when you need someone to do your fucking stupid assassinations for you because he's broken both your arms, all right?'

'Saph-' I start, half hurt and half furious, but as she storms off in the direction of the Flagon, I know I can no sooner force my sore body up from my bed to go after her than I can convince her that I know what I am doing.

 _Besides, I can hardly convince myself,_ I think, before I push the thought from my mind and remind myself of my immediate concern, realising that this new contract may be the one that deems me worthy enough to meet Astrid again. _Or maybe I have already proven myself worthy and she wants to meet me now,_ I think, and with another flicker of excitement mingled with nerves, I know I cannot delay or let myself think about Sapphire's words.

I dress myself awkwardly and painfully under the covers of my bed, not wanting to risk any of the other guildmembers looking over and seeing me naked, much less catching sight of the state of my lower body following the efforts of Mercer's hands and the leather. _Not only does the little bird sharpen daggers, she makes a great tanning rack too,_ I think flippantly, trying to distract myself from the fiercely aggravating pain as I pull my smallclothes and trousers up my legs. _Once I get some privacy, I'll try to heal myself,_ I think, deciding that I cannot waste any time just yet, not when the Guildmaster has word from Astrid.

With his desk vacant, I try the only other place I assume he can be. When I knock on the door to his room, the Guildmaster answers after only a few moments, and at the sight of him, I suddenly feel twice as uneasy as I did at any point during our encounters yesterday.

Mercer is in a starkly different mood than when I last saw him and now I can scarcely imagine him moments from strangling me into unconsciousness; gone is the rage and the threatening glint in his eye, and I notice that the tension in his shoulders has relaxed and there is no suggestion of a scowl in his expression.

'Ah, little bird,' the Guildmaster says lightly, the corners of his mouth turning up, although his smirk is decidedly less mocking than usual. _It's almost a genuine smile._ 'I was just thinking about you.'

'Sapphire said you had a contract for me,' I say, trying not to sound too nervous at the easy tone of his voice.

He doesn't answer, instead only jerking his head in an invitation to enter, and I follow him into his room, doing my best not to pay any attention to the strangely ominous feeling in my stomach.

I stay near to the door as Mercer walks over to his desk. I catch sight of my daggers still lying there, but I barely have time to feel the flicker of fury over how he took them from me before the Guildmaster picks up a slip of paper and turns around.

'Here's your contract,' he says, holding out the parchment to me.

As I quickly close the gap between us and come to stand before him to take the scrap of paper, I realise that he is not holding out any gold or a coin purse to go with the contract, but I think better of questioning him just yet. _And maybe Astrid doesn't even want me to kill anyone, maybe she just wants me to meet her._

Hands shaking a little with the thought, I unfold the paper and quickly read the name and words written in the tight scrawl there.

My heart tightens and my eyes flicker up to the Guildmaster. 'Karliah,' I say slowly. 'Windhelm, Grey Quarter.'

'Well, at least you can still read,' Mercer says mildly.

'This is your writing,' I say, not understanding, my confusion fighting against a crushing sense of disappointment as I realise that this letter has not come from Astrid. 'It's from you. You're asking me to kill Karliah?'

'Gods, have you never had a contract before?' Mercer says, impatience edging his voice, although I still hear the familiar smugness over having me even slightly at his mercy. 'You go to the place and kill the person, Wren. I didn't think it was that hard to grasp.'

I resist the urge to rise to his taunt, still struggling with my keen disappointment. I look back down at the parchment. 'Windhelm,' I read aloud, having heard of the place but knowing little about it. _Except that it's twice the size of Riften and far away from here._ 'Karliah's there? You found her?'

'Obviously.' Mercer leans back against the edge of his desk, clearly enjoying my confusion.

 _And clearly enjoying his victory at finally tracking down Karliah,_ I think, understanding the reason for his good mood now, although I suddenly wonder why he is considering it such a victory if the dark elf still lives.

'There's a carriage leaving Riften at first light,' he tells me, before I can question him. 'You'll be there in a few days.'

The reality of what he is saying hits me and nerves tighten abruptly in my stomach. 'But I've never been to Windhelm,' I say, struggling to imagine where it is on a map, let alone imagine what the city itself is like. 'And I don't know what the Grey Quarter is.'

Mercer snorts with laughter. 'It's like you still have your downy feathers,' he says sarcastically. 'Fine, I'll make it all very simple for the stupid little bird. The Grey Quarter is a Windhelm slum. Karliah is hiding there. You're going to get onto a carriage that will take you to Windhelm, where you will find Karliah and kill her. Now, is there anything else you need me to explain to you? Or maybe you'd like me to hold your hand while you cut the elf bitch's throat?'

'Just how am I supposed to cut Karliah's throat when I've never even seen her before or have any idea what she looks like?' I say sharply, his sarcasm aggravating me just as he intends. 'So unless you expect me to ask every _elf bitch_ I come across if her name is Karliah and did she murder the last Guildmaster, how am I meant to know I'm even killing the right person?'

Mercer laughs a quick harsh laugh, clearly more entertained than annoyed by my angry outburst. 'So frustrated today,' he comments. 'I know I didn't let you come last night, but you could've touched yourself after I was done with you, if you were that desperate to get off.'

I glare at him as my cheeks flush, suddenly twice as conscious of the soreness in my lower body. 'I'm not frustrated,' I snap, although feeling anew the pain in my ass, hips and thighs only forces me to remember the pleasure that came with it, and I feel a keen flicker of annoyance cut through me with the thought that the Guildmaster took whatever satisfaction he wanted of me and yet left me with only lingering pain.

Mercer smirks, and I suspect he knows exactly what is running through my mind - yet for once, he seems uninterested in toying with me further. 'Look, even you'll be able to recognise Karliah,' he tells me. 'Windhelm is full of grey-skinned whores, but I've never met another Dunmer that has her violet eyes.' He shrugs casually. 'But if you come across any, it can't hurt to kill them too. Better safe than sorry, wouldn't you agree? As long as she gets what's coming to her one way or another, I don't care if it takes you a while or you happen to kill a few wrong people in the process.'

I feel a strange and discomforting chill down my back, Mercer's easy tone suddenly unnerving me more than anything else he has ever said or done to me in this room. My mind relives his sharp impatience of the past week and his vicious fury of last night, remembering the way his hand felt around my throat and how the leather kissed my skin red and raw, and I find myself utterly unable to reconcile any part of it with the nonchalant and careless Guildmaster leaning back against his desk in front of me now.

_But the flicker of satisfaction in his eyes is familiar enough. Like he has won another game._

'I thought you'd want to kill her yourself,' I say, thinking of his promise to do worse than cut the treacherous Dunmer's throat. 'Karliah betrayed the Guild. She stole from you and killed the last Guildmaster. You've wanted to make her pay for a long time. Now you'd rather I did it instead?'

Mercer inclines his head, a small smile creeping in at his mouth. 'Of course I'd like to cut the whore's throat myself,' he says. 'But do you think this Guild runs itself? I've got enough to do here without going all the way to Windhelm to chase after a Dunmer bitch who should've died a long time ago. So just consider this... outsourcing.'

'That doesn't explain why you'd send me,' I say, not feeling any more reassured. 'Why not Brynjolf? Or someone else, someone who knows exactly who they're looking for and wants to kill her just as much as you do?'

'You're the little assassin, aren't you?' Mercer says, impatience stating to cut into his voice once more. 'I thought this sort of work would be within your area of expertise.' He folds his arms, looking at me expectantly. 'Now, do you need me to explain anything else to you? Like I said, I've got things to do myself, so unless you're going to remove your clothes and make yourself useful, you can fuck off to Windhelm and get to work.'

I fold my own arms, suddenly feeling like it would be a mistake to accept his contract, much less take off my clothes for him ever again. 'I don't think so,' I say, fearing how he will react and yet realising I am more afraid of his strange nonchalance, as if what I say does not matter either way to him.

'No?' the Guildmaster says lightly, as I suspected, seemingly unconcerned by my refusal. 'Do you want to rethink that answer, Wren?'

'I'm not doing it,' I say firmly.

Mercer unfolds his arms and reaches behind him to his desk with one hand, not taking his eyes from me. 'But I think you will,' he says, and I look down to realise he has picked up the Blade of Justice. 'Kill Karliah and I'll give you what you want, little bird. The thing you seem to want so very badly.'

I glare him, my irritation over his words only exacerbated by the sight of him holding my dagger. 'If you think _fucking me_ will convince me to do your dirty work-' I start sharply, but Mercer cuts over me.

'Kill Karliah and I'll tell you where the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary is,' he says. 'I'll even draw you a map and give you all the gold you need to get there.' His dark eyes hold mine, clearly relishing the shock on my face. 'So now will the stubborn little bird do as she's told?'

I stare at him, my mind racing and my heart suddenly skipping with excitement before I can stop it. 'You'd tell me where the Sanctuary is?' I say, trying to rearrange my expression into one as nonchalant as his own. 'Why?'

'For Delvin's benefit and mine. Every time you flutter your eyelashes and try to wheedle the information out of him, he comes to me with his concerns, and frankly, I'm getting sick of hearing it.' Mercer toys with my dagger in his hands, the smug glint in his eyes brighter now, seemingly knowing that he has me where he wants me. 'He's worried, Wren. He seems to think that you're set on getting yourself killed by wandering into the Sanctuary and thinking you have any idea what awaits you there.' He tilts his head, the smirk back at his mouth once more. 'Well, I'm inclined to let you find out, if you're so desperate for it. After all, I'm nothing if not obliging to you and your little desires, am I?'

I barely hear him, only feeling my heart fluttering and my stomach knotting tight with the sudden realisation that if the Guildmaster is serious in his offer, I need no further persuasion to take his contract. _I was_ _prepared_ _to kill whoever Astrid demanded in exchange for even a chance of meeting with her,_ I think, well aware that at least killing Karliah would be an act of justice that I do not have to question, finding myself more than willing to make her pay for what she did to the Guild - and I realise that if Mercer is good to his word, I will be able to go directly to Astrid and enact my own justice without waiting helplessly for any more contracts or an invitation that may never come.

_If Mercer is indeed good to his word._

'If I do it, how do I know you'll actually keep your part of the bargain?' I say cautiously.

Mercer's dark eyes narrow and he looks at me in silence, as if daring me to ask that question again.

 _When has he made idle threats or promises before?_ I think suddenly, feeling dry-mouthed and conscious of a soreness in my throat, recalling how it felt when the Guildmaster tightened his grip at my neck. _I don't doubt anything he says anymore,_ I realise, both afraid of that truth and resigned to it.

'Fine, I'll do it,' I say, scarcely believing it but knowing I cannot refuse this opportunity. _And it will mean I'll be far away from this place and everything I'd rather forget ever happened._

The Guildmaster seems not to react to my acquiescence, his expression remaining almost bored, although I know him well enough by now to recognise the bright flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. _He has won._

'I'm curious, though,' he says idly after a few moments, and he pulls the Blade free of its sheathe, the sound sending a shiver my back. 'Just why do you want to find the Sanctuary so badly? What has the little bird got in her mind, hm?'

'The contracts bring me gold,' I say bluntly, having no inclination to ever tell him the truth of why I want to find the Sanctuary, deciding Mercer already knows too much about my past. _It's not the Sanctuary I want. It's Astrid. It's justice._ 'And it's a lot more gold than what I see from the Guild,' I add for good measure.

Mercer makes a quiet snort of laughter. 'You think the life of an assassin is better than what you've got here?' he says. 'Well, soon you can find out, can't you? Somehow I suspect you'll trip over a rock and break that delicate neck of yours before you've even made it within a hundred miles of the Sanctuary, but if the little bird wants to go adventuring in the big scary world, that's the bird's choice. To be honest, Wren, as long as you kill Karliah, I don't much care what you do afterwards.'

He sheathes my dagger with a sharp snap and holds it out to me. Without hesitation, I step forward to him and reach for the Blade eagerly, thrilled at the prospect of having it back, but before I can take it, Mercer grabs my wrist with his other hand.

'You take this and we have a deal,' he says. 'You disappear off to Windhelm and kill Karliah, and I'll tell you whatever you want to know after then. Agreed?'

I suddenly recall the last time I agreed to a deal over the Blade of Justice. _Although the dagger was dripping with blood then,_ I think, recalling the night Astrid gave it to me and I agreed to kill in her name as she demanded it. _And I made my own oath, that Astrid would die by the Blade_. My heart beats a little faster with the thought that I am now one step closer to fulfilling my oath.

'Yes,' I say, and the moment Mercer releases my wrist, I snatch the Blade of Justice from him, its weight familiar and comforting in my hand. 'Now give me my other dagger back too,' I add as I quickly fasten the Blade at my thigh once more, my heart cold and determined.

Mercer surprises me when he not only retrieves Rune's silver dagger from his desk and hands it to me without another word, but he also gives me a coin purse, the weight of which is considerably more substantial than I expected. I'm not foolish enough to question him, and I hurry to stuff it into my pocket and fasten the silver dagger to my other thigh, feeling nerves flutter in my stomach as I think of what we have agreed.

When I look back up at the Guildmaster a few moments later, he is holding a large silver key.

'Silver Quarter, third left on the first street,' he says, as he drops the key into my hand, the heavy metal cold and slightly rusted. 'Think you can remember that?'

'What?' I say, not following.

Mercer sighs. 'My house in Windhelm,' he says slowly, as if it should be obvious. 'You can stay there while you're hunting down Karliah. We can't have you sleeping on the streets, can we?' He makes a quick laugh. 'I can only imagine the trouble the little bird might get herself into out there without me to keep an eye on her.'

'I'm sure I'll be fine,' I say shortly, even as the prospect of wandering around a city alone fills me with nerves and suddenly I feel just as I did the night I escaped from Honorhall, afraid, without any sort of bearings and my thoughts permeated with blood. _Except then I had been running from a murder, not running towards committing another._

'Well, we'll find out soon enough.' Mercer nods towards the door. 'Fly away then. Just remember to keep this to yourself. I'll never hear the end of it if the entire Guild learns I've given you the honour of killing Karliah instead of one of them.'

Only too eager to heed his dismissal and not question him further, I nod once and turn away, tucking his key into my pocket, although I find myself disinclined to go even anywhere near his house. _I'd rather sleep on the street than lie alone in Mercer Frey's bed with his coin in my pocket, like a paid unused whore._

I've barely taken a step towards the door when I feel Mercer's hand close tight about my elbow, stopping me from walking any further and pulling me back to him as he moves to stand close to me.

'Try not to fuck up the job, if you can,' he says mockingly as he turns me around to face him, the candlelight catching the amusement in his eyes, the expression on his face unguarded and openly smug now. _And eager to provoke me however he can for the last time._

'Try to do your job yourself next time,' I retort cuttingly, more than capable of biting back just as he intends for me to do. I pull out of his hold sharply and stride over to the door, but I've only opened it a few inches before Mercer catches up with me.

He puts his hand on the door and slams it shut, his other hand taking my shoulder and turning me around again. 'Little bird, you don't half fucking test my patience sometimes,' he says before he grabs a handful of hair at the back of my neck, jerking my head backwards as he brings his mouth down hard onto mine.

Surprised, on reflex my hands reach out to his chest to shove him away, but my attempt proves futile as Mercer's fingers twist in my hair tight enough to make me gasp against his mouth with the pain, giving him the opportunity he needs for his tongue to find its way into my open mouth.

I feel his other hand slide up my neck to keep me in place, although we both know I am going nowhere; my hands only clutch helplessly at his chest as he kisses me fast and deep, his tongue lapping against mine relentlessly until our mouths are slippery wet and I cannot contain my quiet whimper as I feel a flicker of desire go straight between my legs, quicker than I can even register the warmth rising in my body. _Maybe he's right and I am as frustrated from my lack of attention last night as he said I was,_ I think vaguely as my fingers grip at the pockets at his chest and try to pull the hard pressure of his body closer, meeting his kiss with my lips and tongue's own eager response.

Mercer indulges me for only a few seconds longer before he breaks apart our mouths with a quiet laugh.

'What's the poor little bird going to do without me?' he murmurs. 'When she's lonely and wet and there's no one to touch her at night?' He laughs softly again and pulls tighter at my hair, his mouth twisting into a smile at my gasp of pain. 'Will she have to whore herself out to half the Stormcloak army just to get off?'

'Any one of them would be better than you,' I say viciously, although when he laughs again and brings his mouth back to mine, I leave my mouth open and let his tongue inside once more, meeting its insistence with my own. Realising that I will soon be nowhere near the Guildmaster, I find my relief to be mingled with a keen sense of desire, my weak body seemingly eager to take its last pleasure at Mercer's hands. _Or tongue, or cock, or whatever he wants,_ I think distractedly, kissing him harder, relishing the thought of leaving him and all our encounters in the past and yet feeling the needy ache between my legs, my body longing one last time for something I know he can give me.

When Mercer breaks away and his hand suddenly tightens about my throat, my quickened breath catches in fear and the painful memory of his grip on my neck last night immediately douses my body's the heat as I feel my heart start thudding fast.

'If anyone else touches you, I'll know,' Mercer says softly, and I realise he is no longer laughing. As he looks at me, his dark eyes flash with danger, not desire, and his voice is low. 'And I'll make you regret it, you fucking little slut.'

He leans down and gives me one last rough kiss against my lips before he releases my throat and steps back, leaving me strangely numb and on edge from both his kiss and his words.

'Remember her violet eyes,' the Guildmaster says easily as he walks back to his desk. 'Cut them out and bring them back to me, and I'll give you more gold than you can carry to the Sanctuary.' He turns to look at me, leaning back against his desk with a smirk at his mouth. 'But don't forget, I went easy on your little ass last night. You screw this up and you'll be lucky if you can walk again. Now fuck off. The carriage is leaving at dawn.'

I don't need to be told twice. I leave the Guildmaster's room without another word, slamming the door shut behind me with the intention of it being the very last time I do so. _Maybe Karliah's eyes will be enough proof that I won't need to ever come back here,_ I think, realising that I could send her eyes to Mercer as proof of her death and in exchange he could send me the gold and the information he promised, all without me having to be anywhere near him. The possibility of never seeing Mercer Frey again reassures me immensely, before my mind registers exactly what I am thinking. _I never thought I would comforted by the thought of cutting out a woman's eyes._

My stomach is in tight nauseous knots when I return to the Cistern to pack my things. Ignoring everyone else in the Cistern, I waste little time, and with few belongings, it doesn't take me long to clear out the chest beneath my bed of what I need and ready myself for my journey. _Mercer took almost everything of value anyway,_ I think, my fingers brushing over the carving knife, some part of me longing to take it with me, tempted by the notion of using the blunt blade that ended Grelod's life to one day kill Astrid in some form of poetic justice. _It doesn't matter how she dies,_ I remind myself. _As long as she dies. And now I am one step closer to achieving that._

I leave the knife in my chest, along with the empty glass vial, not particularly wishing to bring the memories of either item with me. As I kneel beside my almost-empty chest, my hands linger over the parchment wrappings that protect the silk dress Sapphire gave to me, knowing I have little need for such a garment but suddenly unable to bear the thought of parting with the gift. _If there's even a chance I'm not going to come back, I can't just leave it here and risk losing it_ , I think, before the thought of actually never returning causes a discomforting sense of fear to run down my spine. For a long while, I stay on my knees by my bed, trying not to feel the nervous tightening of my heart, strangely feeling as if I am being choked once more.

_What if I really never come back here?_

I shake my head and force my mind clear before I can contemplate it for long, remembering my furious determination of last night to leave the Guild and yet unable to face the reality now it is actually upon me.

 _All this over a dress,_ I scold myself quickly, busying myself with ensuring that the garment is secure in its wrappings before folding it carefully into my satchel.

'You're taking it with you?'

I jump and turn my head to see Sapphire standing just behind me. I still see the tension in her slender jaw and the doubt lingering in her eyes from before, yet I hear her voice is purposefully softer and I know she is not here to fight or discuss the Guildmaster.

'Of course I am,' I say, looking back down as I finish tucking the dress safely into my satchel. 'It's the nicest gift anyone has ever given me.' I throw her a sideways smile. 'And if I leave it here, I'm just asking for one of you damn thieves to steal it.'

'You know we don't steal from each other here,' she says as she sits down on the edge of my bed in her usual place.

'I might, if it was as worth as much as this,' I joke. 'It's too precious.'

For a few moments, Sapphire only watches silently as I store the last of my things into my satchel. 'I know you'd have got more use out of a dagger or a purse of coins than a dress,' she says after a while. 'But I figured you can always sell it.'

I look up at her, frowning. 'I'm not selling it,' I say firmly, not sure how to put into words what her gift meant to me and that the thought of selling it for coin is almost as unimaginable as the idea of my leaving the Guild for good.

The raven-haired thief holds my gaze. 'Well, then I hope you find someplace to wear it one day,' she says finally, and her words hit me hard.

 _One day._ Suddenly I feel as if this really is goodbye and that I will never see her again. _I'll be coming back,_ I remind myself quickly, knowing that even if I sent Karliah's perfectly preserved corpse to him, Mercer would want me to report back in person. _And most likely to toy with me before allowing me to have the location of the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary._ But that thought only reminds me of my desire for revenge, and the very real fact that after I kill Karliah and Mercer tells me where I can find the Sanctuary, there will be nothing left to keep me here any longer and stop me from hunting down Astrid.

_Except Sapphire, and Rune, and the fact that I do not want to leave at all._

Something catches in my throat. 'Saph,' I start, the words begging to leave my mouth, even though I know I cannot ask it of her. _Come with me. I don't want to do this alone. I can't do this alone._

I steel my heart, knowing that although some part of me is terrified to face this by myself, to hunt down and kill a dangerous traitor by myself, and to eventually hunt down and kill Astrid by myself, I realise that I can bear all of those fears far easier than the thought of getting Sapphire killed because of me. _If I'm going to die to either Karliah or Astrid, I'm not risking Sapphire being hurt too._

'Take care of yourself while I'm gone,' I say lightly with a smile. 'No more stints in jail or getting lost in cities too big for you, all right?'

The thief doesn't smile back; instead, she stares at me in silence for several long seconds. 'You could just stay,' she says eventually, her voice hesitant. 'You can make enough coin with the Guild, you know. You don't need the Brotherhood.'

For a fleeting moment, I consider telling her my real purpose - not just the contract Mercer gave me, but the contract for Astrid's death that I have set myself, and why. _I told her briefly about the guests at the orphanage, but never how I was even made an orphan in the first place, nor that I have the woman responsible almost within my grasp._ Despite suspecting that Sapphire would get as much pleasure from helping me to kill Astrid as she did from killing the bandits that hurt her and took away her own family, I realise that it changes little in my decision to keep the truth from her. _I've lost enough of the people I care about to Astrid._

'It's only one contract, Saph,' I say, making my tone casual and easy, as if my words are true. 'You know there aren't any jobs going for me here at the moment, and I need the gold. But I'll be coming back soon enough, all right?'

I know Sapphire doesn't believe a word. 'Where are you even going?' she asks, her voice a little clipped.

I hesitate, suddenly feeling the ghost of a hand around my throat and I remember Mercer's order to keep my task to myself. 'Not far,' I say, hating not telling her the truth and yet knowing there is no other way.

The thief only nods once and says nothing, but I see her instinctive guard darken her hazel eyes and turn her lips into a thin line, and I can only imagine the thoughts in her head.

_Better that she hate me than demand to come with me and get herself killed._

My heart cold, I shove my packed satchel in my chest and shut the lid tight before rising to my feet. 'Drinks before I go?' I say, deciding that I have a few hours before my leaving becomes real and feeling determined not to think about it until that point. I tap my pocket, where the coin purse from Mercer still resides. 'This gold is a little too heavy. Help me lighten it?'

The corners of Sapphire's mouth curve slightly into a smile, the sight a relief to my eyes. 'I suppose I could help with that,' she says, and she stands up. 'Come on, then.'

 

 *

 

I spend my last hours in the Flagon with Sapphire, neither of us talking about my contract or the fact that I will soon be leaving for an indeterminate amount of time. Rune and Niruin join us after a while, and I tell them that I am leaving for a contract but that I will return soon; Rune doesn't question me, instead simply telling me to be careful and offering to accompany me. _He would want to help me just as much as Sapphire,_ I think, as I thank him but decline, wanting Rune to come to harm as little as I wish it for Sapphire. Niruin only tells me to watch my back, before slyly adding that at least I've been practising with a dagger hard enough recently that I'll surely be able to handle whatever comes my way. Sapphire throws him a cold look and abruptly changes the subject before I've even felt the awkward blush stalk up my cheeks.

I drink a little, enough to take away some of the residual pain in my lower body but not enough to cloud my mind. It's the early hours of the morning when the three thieves with me seem inclined to turn in for the night; not wanting to draw out our goodbyes, or even say goodbye at all, I lie and tell them I'll be right behind them once I've had a quick chat with Delvin about business. I watch them head towards the Cistern, soon disappearing into the crowds, and I do my best not to feel the strange hollowness in my stomach.

I linger in the tavern far longer than I should, my eyes flickering over towards the Cistern door and scanning the tavern more times than I care to count, for a reason I do not let myself think about, until I realise that the night is slipping by and I'll miss the dawn carriage if I delay any longer. _It's easier this way,_ I tell myself as I stand up, ignoring the soreness in my thighs as I start to walk back to the Cistern to collect my satchel.

Something catches in my heart a short while later as I shut the Cistern door behind me and make my way through the passageway to the ladder, but I do not allow myself dwell on it, and soon enough the scent of nightshade pushes everything from my mind. In the graveyard, my feet take me over to Grelod's heap of earth before I even realise that is where I am headed. The deadly flowers have grown fast around the grave, already snaking up the carved stone that describes the woman buried beneath. _Does the nightshade die off in winter?_ I wonder as I breathe the scent deeply and willingly, the bitter smell strangely comforting to me in that moment, although it chills my heart no less than normal. _The bitch got what she deserved. As will Astrid._

I turn around and walk through the graveyard, my mind wandering before I can stop it to the very first time I walked through this place, in the dead of night, with nerves fluttering in my stomach. _It's easier this way,_ I remind myself again, and I almost manage to believe it.

The dull darkness of pre-dawn lingers in Riften's streets. With my daggers at my thighs and the surplus of guards still scouring the alleys and hovels, I do not run into any trouble, save for being followed by a few suspicious guards who make too much noise to be inconspicuous; I lose them quickly in the shadows of an alley and continue on my way to the city main gates.

The way out of Riften is far busier than I expected, and I hear the clamour of voices before I even turn the last corner onto the wide main street that leads to the city's northern entrance. It seems all the traders and travellers of the city are either coming or going at this time before dawn, and a large crowd clusters in the street before the towering wooden gates, where guards appear to be checking the goods and purposes of everyone passing through. _Probably looking for the Jarl's stolen trinkets,_ I think, although I suspect that some of the guards have their own agenda; as I approach, I catch sight of one traveller handing over a coin purse rather than opening his bag to the guards, and I start to wonder if I will have to pay them off to get out of the city unharassed. _Maybe that's why Mercer gave me more gold,_ I think, realising that perhaps I shouldn't have spent any of the coin in the Flagon earlier.

I join the back of the slowly moving crowd; unable to peer over the heads of most people around me, I find myself glancing up at the sky, starting to worry that by the time I make it outside the city, the carriage for Windhelm will probably have left. _And I don't want to think about what Mercer would do if he finds out I've been delayed._

I draw my arms around me, my nerves growing with every passing moment, until I suddenly feel a hand touch my shoulder.

My heart jumps and I reach instinctively for my dagger, but my fingers have barely brushed the Blade of Justice before I look around to find that Brynjolf is standing right beside me, my heart skipping another beat with the realisation.

Even through the dim gloom before the dawn, the sight of him makes the nerves in my stomach flutter twice as keenly. My eyes take him in more eagerly than ever before, lingering over the messily pulled back state of his hair and the shadows beneath his eyes, leaving me wondering when he last slept or whether he has spent the night hours in someone else's arms or between their legs. Unbidden, the words exchanged in our last encounter rush painfully through my mind and I feel an uncomfortable knot of regret form in my stomach.

'You'll be here for hours,' Brynjolf says before I even have time to try and still the nervous racing of my heart. 'Come this way.'

Without another word, he turns around and starts to cut through the crowds. I do not hesitate before I hurry to follow him as he heads away from the gates and down a narrow alley to the left of the main street.

Soon leaving the noise and crowds behind, I keep close behind Brynjolf, just as I did the night he led me from the Bee and Barb to the Guild for the first time. Despite being familiar enough with Riften's streets by now, I feel exactly as I did that night, uncertain and cautious and yet strangely compelled to follow the auburn-haired thief wherever he is taking me.

Brynjolf pulls up his hood as we walk, not speaking to me again, although he turns his head more than once to check I am still behind him as he leads me down a short series of winding alleys close to the high city walls. After a few minutes, he ducks inside a run-down building, the door hanging precariously off one hinge, and I follow without question; within, I find Brynjolf on the other side of small room littered with rubbish, on his knees and lifting open a trapdoor concealed beneath the stained and splintered floorboards.

A minute later, we drop down a ladder into a damp stone-walled passageway, lit by a few lanterns of hazy magelight and filled with the faint noise of running water. _It sounds like the Cistern,_ I think, hoping for a wild moment that Brynjolf has somehow led me back there and that everything that has happened since I woke up has been a dream. _Or everything that has happened since I first set foot in the Guild,_ I think suddenly, imagining for a moment that Brynjolf is leading me into the Cistern for the very first time, that I have never heard Astrid's name nor killed for it, that I have never been anywhere near Mercer Frey.

My fantasies are proven insubstantial when we reach the end of the passageway and climb another ladder. The trapdoor here opens up not into a house or the Guild but a grassy thicket. The fresh air hits me and as I pull myself up and come to stand on soft soil, I realise we are on the other side of the city walls, in the open land with the shadowy expanse of the aspen forest pressing in close around us, the vivid red and orange leaves visible even through the darkness.

Though still well-within earshot of the city's noise and with the walls only a stone's throw behind me, I feel my heart flutter fast and I breathe in the autumn dawn air, remembering the last and only time I have stepped foot outside of the city in the past decade. _And the journey out to the shack I was unconscious, whilst during my return to Riften, my mind was full of blood,_ I recall, realising that I had barely noticed the ground beneath my feet after Astrid kidnapped me, much less the sight of the world passing by as the carriage took me from Ivarstead back to Riften.

I look around, eagerly yet strangely afraid, my heart on edge as without warning I remember the sight of the Rift's forests from my childhood and suddenly it is like I am back there, feeling the damp touch of the fallen leaves after a storm, shielding my child's eyes against the fiery sunsets that set over the forests, hearing the waterfall beyond, smelling the rain in the soil and the air.

My stomach hollow, I crush the memories down and force myself back into the present as I look around to gather my bearings. To the left, just before the city walls curve into the distance, I see the shadowy shape of a low wooden building and I hear faintly the sound of horses. When I look to the right, I notice a small encampment and a few figures of people standing around a fire that sends thick plumes of smoke up to the grey sky.

 _The steadily lightening grey sky,_ I think, noticing that the blank expanse above my head seems brighter than it was when I was on the other side of the city walls, conscious that the shapes of the trees and thickets around me seem clearer, and before I know it, I am hit with the unavoidable realisation that it is nearly dawn. _And I have to leave._

With that thought, I remember how I got here, and my breath catches in my throat when I remember I am not alone.

I turn around quickly to face Brynjolf where he stands a few feet away, my heart slipping a beat when I realise he is watching me, his green eyes bright beneath the shadow of his hood and his gaze trained on my face - and with the sight of him, I suddenly have no idea how to say goodbye to him, much less tell him how much I regret the words I spoke when last we talked. _And all the words I never spoke but have wanted to say ever since I first met him._

'Thank you for showing me the way,' I say finally, awkwardly, after a few silent moments.

'Don't mention it,' Brynjolf says, his tone easy. He nods over to the building to the left. 'The stables are just over there. You should make your carriage in time.'

I don't ask how he knows what time I am due to leave, not wanting to imagine what conversations Mercer has had with him. 'Thanks,' I say again, before I realise I should probably say something else. 'I just hope there's someone to show me all the secret ways in and out Windhelm too,' I say jokingly, cursing myself for my awkwardness.

'You'll find your way. I've no doubt about that.' Brynjolf pauses, not taking his eyes from me. 'So you're going to Windhelm?' The corner of his mouth lifts in a half-smile. 'You planning to assassinate the Jarl, lass?'

'Well, since you had such success robbing one, I figured I should try killing one too,' I say lightly, my heart fluttering at the sound when he makes a quick quiet laugh.

'Aye, well, their coin makes them slow and easy prey for assassins and thieves alike,' he says. 'Just watch yourself, all right? Their gold can see to it that you're locked in a dungeon or on the gallows far quicker than you can cut their throat.'

'I'll be careful,' I say, meaning it, before I suddenly realise what I have admitted to him. 'But don't tell anyone where I am,' I add quickly. 'I... I don't want anyone to find out and complicate things.'

'I'll keep it to myself, lass.' Brynjolf holds my gaze, the dawn light brightening his face and our surroundings far quicker than I think I can bear. 'Take care of yourself, then,' the thief says finally.

My words catch in my throat and I find I can only nod in response, my heart racing uncomfortably fast in my chest. It's not until Brynjolf has given me a last smile and turned away that I force myself to speak, unable to leave without saying something, _anything_.

'Brynjolf,' I start, although when he turns to face me again, I still have no idea what to say, and I meet his gaze wordlessly for several long seconds, nerves twisting my stomach. 'I hope things get better for the Guild while I'm gone,' I say eventually, wishing I was strong enough to say what I mean.

Something flickers in the thief's eyes, irrefutably beyond my comprehension and seemingly at odds with the easy smile still at his mouth. 'So do I,' he says. 'Maybe if the place wasn't so broke, we wouldn't lose our guildmembers to more profitable professions like murder.'

'You haven't lost me,' I blurt out before I can stop myself, feeling my cheeks blush the moment the words leave my mouth.

Brynjolf's expression does not seem to change as he looks at me, and I find my heart beating faster and more painfully with every moment that passes before he finally speaks. 'And the Guild will be here for you when you come back, lass,' he says evenly. 'Don't doubt that.' The thief nods in the direction of the stables. 'You'll be late if leave it any longer, Wren.'

I nod, knowing it well enough myself, and I turn away quickly before he can see the expression on my face and before I can let my gaze linger on him a moment longer.

My heart does not slow its pace as I walk quickly to the stables, every inch of me wanting to look back. _Gods, I want to do more than look back_. Even after I have paid for my seat on the carriage, I want to turn my head and look behind me; even after we are well away from the city and a cool sun starts to rise over the aspens, I want to turn around.

Regardless, I stay looking straight ahead and I breathe slow and deep breaths to calm my unsteady heart, not wanting to know whether Brynjolf lingered to watch me leave or whether he left the moment I walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of dialogue here and not much action, apologies if it's not as exciting. I hit a massive wall this week, to be honest; my stupid sad headspace aside, I keep feeling crazy inferior to other writers in various ways and have been generally working myself into an anxious mess. But now I've got this chapter done, I am feeling a little more positive and looking forward to the next update, which will be the start of more exciting things, I promise. Poor Wren has a lot ahead of her. And it won't be too long until we'll get some proper scenes relating to that second relationship tag... <3  
> Also 1000+ hits ahhh I am so grateful <3


	19. Snow and Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know you said you liked the monster chapters, well, this one is the test. Seeing as I didn't post last weekend for various reasons, here is a double sized 14k chapter for you. <3

Clouds form in the sky and a chilly rain begins to fall, and as we take the northern road and leave Riften far behind, it's not long before I start to think I could run faster than the carriage. _It might hurt less too,_ I think, feeling every jolt and judder of the carriage in my ass and thighs as I sit on the hard wood seat, mentally cursing myself for not trying to heal my skin earlier and cursing the Guildmaster for lashing me red and sore in the first place. Determined not to think about that or any other memories I have left behind in Riften, I pull up my hood and bite my lip against the pain, staring at the passing trees to distract my mind, although the cool misty rain blankets much of the forest in a damp fog and I can see little of my surroundings as we travel along a winding path through the trees.

It's late morning when the forest gives way to a wide clearing and we mercifully pull to a stop at a small settlement built around a dark rocky outcrop. As a couple of burly men with pickaxes disembark from the carriage and the driver attends to the horses, I hop down from the carriage too and slip off into the trees. Cautious of being interrupted with my trousers and smallclothes around my knees, I work as quickly as I can, revelling in the warm healing glow that emanates from my palms as I run my hands close to my thighs and backside. My expertise still severely lacking in the magickal arts, the spell fades away after only a few seconds and a prickling discomfort still lingers, and when I twist my body around, I find the red marks still remain faintly on my lashed skin. _But it's better than it was,_ I think, quickly pulling up my trousers before making my way back to the carriage, satisfied that at least the ride will be slightly more comfortable now and deciding that the remaining pain along with the marks and the aching bruise beneath my ribs can wait for my attention later.

My hopes for a comfortable journey are soon proven to be mere fantasy the further north we travel. After a wet and foggy day, we spend the night in a small mining town built within the spray of a colossal waterfall; the sound of the crashing water lulls me to sleep in moments, tricking my tired mind into thinking that I am back in the Cistern and not lying in a rented bed in an unfamiliar town as I travel to conduct an assassination. I wake groggy and bitterly disappointed to find myself where I am, and my foul mood improves little the next day; as we continue north, the aspens give way to barren reaches of craggy terrain, the chilly rain turns to an icy wet snow, and the biting cold forces all other thought from my mind.

I draw my knees to my chest as I huddle in the corner of the carriage, shivering violently as the temperature drops with every passing hour, sorely wishing I had asked someone what Eastmarch was like and whether my Guild cloth and leathers would be warm enough. _Or whether the fucking cold will kill me before I can even find Karliah._ By the time night draws in and the moonlight falls bright and clear on the snowy road, I am sodden and freezing and exhausted, my mind worked into knots of both regret and impatience as I find myself torn between wanting to turn back and wanting to get to my destination quicker. _I don't even care where I have to go or what I have to do, as long as it's warm and there's no more gods damned snow._

When we stop that night in another mining town and I hurry into the inn, I can barely feel my hands or feet, and the roaring fire is more painful than pleasant as the sudden warmth cuts fiercely through my numb skin. The small smoky inn is crowded with patrons, most strong-armed and loud of voice, as if their ears are adjusted to the deafening noise of hammering metal on stone. Feeling the locals' curious gazes on my back, I keep my head down and my hood up as I make my way to the bar, where I spend Mercer's coin on hot food, wine, and a bed for the night in a private room with a fire. The luxury costs more gold than I was expecting, but I don't try to haggle, at that moment willing to pay whatever the price to sleep behind a locked door with warm food in my stomach and wine to blur the edges of my mind. _At least the cold has numbed the other pains in my body,_ I think, before I wrap myself tight in the furs on the bed and force myself to remember why I am here. _T_ _he cold can't numb memories_ _or my desire to one day have Astrid begging at my feet_ _._

After a night spent shivering more than sleeping, I dress myself in as many layers of my clothing as will fit on my body, and come the dawn, I climb resignedly back into the carriage. Curled up beneath a fox fur hastily stolen from the inn, I keep my gaze to the north in anticipation, my eyes narrowed against the bitter winds and the dazzling snow. As the afternoon draws on and we make excruciatingly slow progress along the icy road, I start to taste salt on the cold air as it whips at my face and tangles in the curls of my hair that escape from beneath my hood.

The carriage crests a final snowy hill and I get not only my first sight of Windhelm but my first sight of the sea. Protected by towering walls of grey stone and set beyond an estuary of dark writhing waters, the city sprawls in the shadow of white-capped mountains and nestles around a shipping port to the east; when I look at the expanse of sea lapping against the icy cliffs and stretching far into the distance to meet the horizon, I feel a jolt of fear in my stomach. _If I'm cold now, imagine falling from that cliff into the sea,_ I think before I look away quickly and instead turn my gaze to the city. The size of it is just as daunting as the deep writhing sea, and I start to wonder how the hell I am going to find my way around, much less find one Dunmer who will surely be doing her best to avoid detection.

My nerves heightening, we make a slow descent towards the cluster of stone buildings near the bridge that leads to the city gates. The fallen snow is little more than slush and mud here, and the thoroughfare to Windhelm teems with people, horses, carts and livestock; my senses attuned to the winds and the crunch of snow under the carriage wheels, the noise and movement startles me more than I expected; as the carriage pulls up at the stables and the other passengers gather their belongings, I do not move to stand up and climb down from the carriage, well aware that the icy temperature and numbness of my body are the least of the reasons why I find myself frozen in place.

 _I could just stay sitting here,_ I think, wondering where the driver is bound next, whether he will return to the misty autumn forests of the Rift or whether he is destined for elsewhere in Skyrim. _Maybe somewhere warm, somewhere dry, somewhere I will not have to think about murder._ Before I can stop myself, my mind wanders to hot fires and wine, to the Bee and Barb and nights spent there drinking, to Sapphire and Rune and Brynjolf and what they are doing now, and my thoughts fill me with such a keen sense of longing that I find myself utterly unconvinced to leave the carriage and step foot into Windhelm. _Fuck_ _what_ _Mercer_ _wants me to do_ _, right now I just want to be somewhere safe and familiar and warm._

The sound of the driver's voice makes me jump. 'Looking to catch frostbite tonight, girl?' he says, turning back to look at me, and I realise the other passengers have already left the carriage. 'It'll be dark soon. If you need a place to stay, there's a roadside inn right over there, or you can ask the stablehand for a place in the hay.' The man's mouth curls into a smile as his gaze flickers over me. 'He might even give it you free. Though I can't say you won't catch something other than frostbite.'

The look in his eyes forces me back into reality. _At least Windhelm will surely be safer than out here on the road._ 'I've got somewhere to stay in the city,' I say shortly, slinging my satchel over my shoulder and clutching the stolen fur tight in my arms as I rise from the hard seat. 'Thanks.'

If the man replies, I don't hear him, as I clamber down quickly and ungracefully from the carriage, suddenly feeling conscious of my stiff cold body. _If some stablehand tried to get the better of me right now, I'd probably just fall over,_ I realise as I make my way to join the crowds on the bridge, deciding that I need to get some sleep and settle my nervous mind before I can start to safely explore the city, let alone begin to undertake my contract. _And_ _I have to remember that_ _the sooner I do that, the sooner I can leave_ _and never come back here or anywhere else so damn cold_ _._

I use my size to my advantage and manage to slip my way through the mass of people, reaching the gates just as darkness starts to fall. One of the Nord guards waves me inside with little more than a cursory glance and an unimpressed shake of his head at my shivering, clearly out-of-town appearance. The elves behind me fare worse, and as I walk into the city, I catch a few choice words from the Nords that make my stomach turn. I pull my hood lower over my head and hurry onward to a wide snowy square thronging with people. As I try to get my bearings and determine where I might find somewhere to sleep for the night, through the crowds I catch sight of a young Dunmer woman nearby, cornered between two Nord men, one holding the slender dark elf by the arm and the other counting out coins from a small purse.

'Thieving bitch,' the Nord says as he ties the purse and shoves it into his pocket. 'How'd you get this coin, huh?'

'I didn't steal it,' the woman says, and even from across the square I hear the mix of fear and anger cut into her deep voice.

'Probably spread them grey legs,' his companion says with a hacking laugh.

'For a dog or a skeever, maybe.' The stocky dark-haired Nord spits on the feet of the woman. 'What man would go near such a filthy cunt, let alone pay for it?'

I look around, feeling an uncomfortable chill down my back that has little to do with the temperature when I realise that none of the other people in the square seem concerned by the Nords' display. The sound of flesh on flesh and a cry of pain makes my gaze whip back to the Dunmer, who stumbles down to the ground under the force of the dark-haired man's fist against her cheek. As the crowds part a little, I notice that a guard stands only a few feet away from the Nords, seemingly mediating the confrontation, although his arms are folded and his hand does not once move to his sheathed sword.

 _But_ _I bet_ _he would reach for his blade_ _quick_ _enough if I tried to intervene on the Dunmer's behalf,_ I think, feeling a fluttering of fear in my stomach, for the dark elf, and selfishly for myself. Knowing I can hardly take on two Nords and a guard by myself in the middle of a crowded area, I harden my heart and start walking towards the north of the square, where, judging by the cluster of people and the drunken singing, I assume I can find a tavern.

'Dirty grey-skin whore,' I hear the dark Nord say as I walk past, and I see him spit once more on the Dunmer as she struggles to get up from the ground before he lays a hard kick to her stomach.

'All right,' the guard says lazily over the woman's cry, but he still does not move forward. 'She's had enough for now.'

When I look back a few seconds later, the men have backed off, and I catch sight of the small smirk at the guard's mouth and the respectful nod of his head as he watches the men turn away, leaving the dark elf on the ground.

 _Maybe I won't even need to kill Karliah_ _myself_ _,_ I think, wondering if I could just let the Nords here do my job for me, before I feel a rush of anger and I decide that at least if I kill Karliah, it will be justice, and the sharpness of the Blade will make it clean.

My mind is on edge when I push through the drunken revellers to the north of the square and find myself in a large and brightly lit tavern. My keen relief at being out of the icy evening air is soon dashed when I head to the bar to ask for a room for the night and promptly learn that I do not have enough coin to afford even a bed in a shared room.

 _Mercer is a son of a bitch,_ I think, settling for a cup of wine and a bowl of broth, knowing that the Guildmaster probably measured the coins he gave me carefully to allow for the journey to Windhelm and nothing more. I sit in a corner of the busy tavern, trying to ignore the loud talk of the Nords around me and similarly trying to ignore my growing feeling of panic as I wonder what to do now that I have no coin for a room. With my hands still too cold and clumsy for lockpicking and my knowledge of the city's streets non-existent, I realise that trying to steal any gold tonight would be unwise, while the thought of spending the night out in the cold streets makes my body shiver just thinking about it.

Grimly I realise I have little choice in where I will be sleeping tonight, but I linger in the tavern for as long as I can, savouring every moment of the food and wine and warmth, until the raucous talk of the nearby Nords aggravates me enough into preferring to wander the freezing cold streets rather than listen to them a moment longer. _I once let a man like that touch me,_ I remember suddenly, thinking of the night I joined the Guild and the fair Nord who I kissed in order to pickpocket Brynjolf's papers, and I wonder how I could have even briefly enjoyed the touch of the man's hands after overhearing his degrading conversation with his friend not a few minutes before. _But_ _I might as well ask myself why I've ever gone near Mercer Frey._

Not liking the thoughts in my mind, I quickly down the last of my wine and ask at the bar for directions to the Silver Quarter. Bracing myself against the cold, I keep my hands out of my pockets and near my daggers as I walk the unfamiliar streets, my haste at least warming my body a little in my urgency to not linger in the city too long at night, having already witnessed the guards' apparent lack of concern over the welfare of some of their citizens and suspecting that their care for visiting outsiders is similarly non-existent. Fortunately, unlike Riften's maze of alleys and streets, Windhelm's roads are mostly straight, wide and direct, and I find my way to the quiet well-lit Silver Quarter in only a short time. Set back from the paved streets, the houses are imposing structures of dark grey stone, weathered by harsh winds and ice. On the first street, I look to the left and count my way past two houses before coming to a stop outside the third. Unlike the others around it, the house is dark, with the windows shuttered and tough weeds growing in the cracks of the stone path that leads to the door. _He clearly doesn't come here often,_ _or ever_ _,_ I think, before I step up to the door and retrieve the key from my satchel, eager to get inside and out of the cold evening winds. Some part of me is surprised when the lock clicks open. _I wouldn't have put it past him to leave me out in the freezing cold,_ I think, relieved to discover that Mercer's cruelty does not extend that far.

Inside the house, the shadows hang as heavy as the dust in the air, and it takes a while for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. As I look around, I find Mercer's house to be exquisitely decorated, and yet the expensive furnishings are layered with cobwebs and the place is almost as cold as outside. Cautiously, I check every room, each quiet creak of a door unnerving me and my hand resting unashamedly on my dagger, still some part of me fearing that this is just some game of the Guildmaster's and half-expecting to find someone waiting in the shadows.

After a few minutes, I ascertain that the house is deserted. Grateful for a sturdy roof, solid walls and a secure door, I decide it is a safe enough place to sleep for tonight. Upstairs in the main bedroom, I find a stack of aged wood beside the fireplace and as I set about starting a fire, I wonder if the hearth had ever been lit. _Why the hell would he ever want to live here, anyway?_ I think, certain that surely even Mercer is not so cold-hearted as to enjoy living in a place like this. As the fire soon starts to warm the room, I ease my satchel from shoulder and remove my daggers from my thighs, deciding to curl up on the floor before the fire, although the cold floorboards suddenly seem less appealing than the large bed behind me. _I'm not sleeping in his bed,_ I remind myself firmly, but it's not long before the mass of furs and soft sheets call to me, as does the thought of resting my tired and cold body on a feather mattress rather than the wooden floor, and I soon strip off my damp chilly clothes and climb into Mercer's bed, burying myself in the covers and falling into a heavy, exhausted sleep before my mind can even contemplate the reason why I am here in the first place.

 

*

 

After four days, I come to the realisation that finding Karliah will be a near impossible task. The area known as the Grey Quarter is small but a veritable warren of crumbling stone buildings and shacks, and unlike the other parts of the Windhelm, the streets are narrow and winding and often treacherous with uncleared snow drifts or unsalted stretches of ice over the walkways. By now used to Riften's alleys, I learn to find my way around the Grey Quarter soon enough, and although I never get used to the cold, I draw comfort in the shadowy alleys and winding streets, at times feeling almost as if I am back in Riften. _The lack of guard_ _patrols_ _here_ _is nice, too,_ I think at first, but I soon discover that the guards are often the ones stumbling drunk from the taverns in the early hours with the other Nords, to shout obscenities in the Grey Quarter streets and to harass anyone they can find. _At least Riften's crooked guards whore and drink and conduct their business mostly discreetly,_ I think, realising that the guards in Windhelm act with impunity and fear no reprisal for their actions.

It doesn't surprise me to find that the people living in the Grey Quarter are not overly forthcoming with strangers, particularly with those that have questions. When I ask around whether anyone has seen a dark elf woman with violet eyes, I am met with stony silences or questions of their own as to why I am looking for her. Although I invent what I believe to be a convincing story, that the Dunmer is a travelling companion of mine and we were separated in a blizzard just outside of Windhelm, either I am too poor a liar or they have been told similar stories before and know the true purpose behind such questions.

Despite quickly realising the hopelessness of my task, I persevere in my search, and my hopes rise abruptly on my fifth day in Windhelm when I enter a second-hand store and the rather talkative dark elf behind the counter complains to me about a recent break-in that, like most crimes in the Grey Quarter, has not been investigated by the guards. As he lists all his customers who acted even slightly suspiciously, the man lets slip that there was a purple-eyed woman browsing books in his shop not a week ago. I do my best to keep my sudden interest off my face as I subtly work the Dunmer for further information, but my desperate excitement must show in my expression and he soon reacts to my questioning like all the others, narrowing his eyes and asking me stiffly if he can help me with any purchases.

When I realise my harassment is getting me nowhere, I start to visit the Grey Quarter at night instead, keeping to the shadows and hoping to overhear any whispers of a woman in hiding, or perhaps even see a purple-eyed fellow thief breaking into a house or store. _Or maybe she'll walk right into me,_ I think flippantly, starting to think such an occurrence as likely as ever finding her myself. My night-time efforts prove equally fruitless, overhearing the catcalls and shouts of the drunken Nords rather than anything useful, and I soon resort to breaking into the houses and shacks myself in the desperate hopes of finding any trace of Karliah. I make a point of not stealing from any of the places I enter, choosing to do my shopping in the far richer Silver Quarter, but I search each place thoroughly, desperate to find a lead. The break-ins are just as unsuccessful as my questioning, and after every failed excursion to the Grey Quarter I return to Mercer's house in a bitter temper, half-wanting Windhelm's cold and unfriendly citizens to turn their attentions from the Dunmer onto me, just so I have an excuse to draw my daggers and put them to use.

Almost a week has passed when I start to grow conscious of the strange shiver that moves down my spine as I walk around the Grey Quarter, and I soon realise that it has little to do with the cold. _It's a big city, there's always going to be someone going in the same direction as me,_ I remind myself firmly, although the undeniable feeling of being followed and the resulting chill down my back lingers even when I check behind me and find no one there.

 _Maybe it's one of the Dunmers who have had enough of seeing me around here,_ I think one night as I walk the Grey Quarter, drawing my stolen cloak tight around me against the bitter air. _Or a guard wanting some amusement._ Trying to ignore the unease crawling down my back, my gaze suddenly falls upon a tumble-down house that I have yet to explore, and with another quick glance behind me, I hurry forward down the alley and set to work.

'Fuck,' I curse quietly a short while later as my last lockpick breaks under the clumsiness of my cold hands. I reach beneath my hood for my hair pins, but those too prove useless and I realise that the lock on the door is far more complex than both my expectations and capabilities. My bitter temper suddenly sparked with yet another failure, I step away from the door and stuff my hands back into my pockets, deciding to come back in daylight when at least the bite in the air will not be so debilitating to the skill of my hands.

 _Or maybe I won't come back at all,_ I think, wondering if I have wasted not only my lockpicks but my time too. _I've been in Windhelm for nearly a week and I'm nowhere close to finding Karliah._ The frustrating thought burns fiercely through me, and not for the first time since my arrival in the city, I realise my own stupidity in thinking that this would be an easy task. I start walking quickly back through the alleys, intending to return to the Silver Quarter and drink my way through some of the wine I found in the cellar of Mercer's house, trying desperately not to let my frustration turn to despair. _If I can't find one fucking Dunmer thief, how the hell am I ever going to find and kill Astrid?_

My mind is distracted and I do not hear the footsteps in the lightly falling snow until it is too late. I am halfway down a winding and unlit alley when someone grabs me from behind, a hand smothering the instinctive scream from my mouth as I feel the touch of icy cold metal against my throat.

Fear stops my heart and I'm about to reach down for my own daggers when I hear a quiet familiar laugh in my ear and the blade presses harder to my neck, and my hands freeze in shock before I can draw my weapons.

'Fucking gods, little bird.' The hand uncovers my mouth and drops down to my stomach, pulling me back against a solid, familiar body. 'You really have no hope out here, do you?'

'Mercer?' I say, immobilised by both my shock at his sudden appearance and the chill of his dagger still pressed to my throat. 'What the hell are you doing here?'

'Clearly catching you off-guard,' Mercer says, his hand at my navel slipping down to my trousers, his fingers quickly ripping apart the fastenings before I even register what he is doing. 'What would you have done if I was after your virtue?' He laughs another quick laugh as he loosens the material of my trousers and I gasp at the cold air cutting my bare skin sharp as a knife. 'Not that the slut has much virtue for me to take.'

'What the fuck are you doing here, Mercer?' I repeat, although I hardly need an explanation as to his current intentions, suddenly conscious of his body behind me and the way his cock presses already hard against my ass through his clothing and mine, and he does not seem inclined to answer my question.

'Has the little bird kept it warm and wet for me?' he murmurs in my ear, and his fingers dip beneath my smallclothes.

I gasp, his hand ice-cold from the night air, and I hear his own breath hitch as his fingers explore me, quicker and more eager than ever before, as if our days apart have caused him to forget all the times he has put his fingers or tongue or cock between my legs. When his fingers find their way to the source of my sensitivity, brushing light and quick and cold over my clit, the chill of his fingers sends a sharp shiver through me that I realise has little to do with the icy night air.

'Stop it,' I say, my body tingling, certainly with the cold and yet I know it is more than that. I reach up and clutch at his arm, trying to pull his arm away where he still holds the dagger to my neck, desperate not to give him the satisfaction of knowing how easily my body responds to his touch even with a blade against my throat. 'Mercer, stop.'

No part of me expects him to heed my demand, and soon only a small feeble part of me even wants him to heed it. My fingers curl around his arm as he holds the dagger to my throat, the blade quickly warming with the sudden heat that spreads through every inch of my body from between my legs, his touch there making me warmer than I have been since I set foot into this freezing unfriendly city, and soon I stop wondering why he is here or what I am even doing letting him touch me like this in the middle of an alley.

'Even in a snow storm, hm?' the Guildmaster says in my ear, his fingers no longer cold but warm and wet at my core. 'You fucking slut. You just can't help yourself.'

Suddenly I feel anew all of my frustration from the past few days, hot and violent and begging for some form of release after my week of being sorely let down, and before I can stop myself, I push my ass back against Mercer, rubbing up on his hardness, mostly to aggravate him but also to exacerbate the warmth flooding between my legs when I feel his cock pressing at my ass. 'Neither can you,' I say pointedly. 'You're so hard, it's like you've never touched a woman before.'

My words clearly infuriate him just as I intend, and with a harsh laugh Mercer pulls his wet fingers from between my legs at the same time he takes the dagger away from my neck. I hear him sheathe the blade but before I can even move, he grabs me and turns me around to face him.

The sight of Mercer standing before me, hooded and in the familiar black leather and cloth Guild armour, is far more comforting than I expected – but my desire for him is suddenly overtaken by my longing for the Guild, for Riften, to be back in the Cistern, to sleep in the bed that became mine in the place that became my home before I even realised it. The Guildmaster looks me up and down too, briefly, his eyes bright with a fierce desire that burns even through the darkness, before he steps forward and abruptly shoves me backwards until I hit the nearby alley wall with a yelp of pain.

'Woman, was that?' Mercer growls, his hands wrenching down my trousers and smallclothes, leaving me gasping at the freezing air on my inexplicably hot legs. 'You're nothing more than a fucking whore.' He grabs my thigh and rips one of my legs completely free of my trousers, tearing the material of my smallclothes when it catches on my boot. His hands go to his own trousers, freeing himself in moments. 'A wet needy cunt and a mouth that talks too much.'

'And you're a-' I start furiously, but I never get to tell Mercer what he is, as he hooks his arm behind my knee and pulls my bare leg up and apart before he steps close and I feel the hard head of his cock between my legs.

His groan of satisfaction is louder than my own moan when he thrusts himself inside me without a moment's hesitation. Having almost forgotten the feeling and with my body accustomed to being tense in the cold, I whimper with the sensation as he pushes his length to my limits; his breathing shallow, he holds himself there for several long seconds as he looks down at me, his dark eyes like fire when they meet mine again – although now I can scarcely read the expression in them, distracted and surprised as I am to find that he is even giving me time to get used to him.

My surprise doesn't last long, as Mercer pulls out of me long enough to adjust his arm beneath my knee and jerk my leg higher before he slams his cock back into me, the force crushing me beneath his body up against the snowy stone wall and we both gasp with the feeling, the Guildmaster seemingly taking as much pleasure from being inside me as I suddenly get from having him there.

He wastes no more time, and I cling to his shoulders as he sets about satisfying himself as fast and hard as he can, my own satisfaction inexplicably rising as fast and hard too. I bury my mouth in his shoulder, biting down against my moans of pleasure, although Mercer must hear them well enough.

'Have you been thinking about this since you left, slut?' he says.

'You clearly have,' I gasp, which only causes him to take me harder, and I hear him make a harsh laugh at my resulting cry.

'Forget half the Stormcloak army,' he says. 'If I hadn't turned up, I bet you would've fucked every man in this city, and their dogs too.' He readjusts his arm under my knee and his other hand grabs my waist, lifting me off the ground and keeping me pinned up against the wall as his thrusts grow rougher and faster. 'The little bitch would take any cock inside her and still come screaming, wouldn't she?'

'Yes,' I moan, not listening to him properly or caring what I am agreeing with, only feeling my body's eager reaction at his increased efforts and wanting more, wanting to stay warm, just _wanting._

Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I see a shadowy shape of a person further down the alley, and my already quickened breath catches in surprise – and yet I find myself hardly caring that someone might walk past to see me naked from the waist down and hear my moans as I get fucked against the wall in an alley. _I should care_ _about that_ _,_ I think vaguely, but I quickly realise that the thought of what I _should_ do and _should_ want is too hard to consider when I know the truth well enough. _If I even think about it for a second, I don't want this, or him,_ I realise, and in that moment I think of how Mercer laughed over what happened to me at Honorhall, how his hand felt as it closed around my throat, how he has taken so much pleasure from my pain, but I close my eyes tight and dig my fingers in harder at his shoulders, my mind refusing to acknowledge the truth, forcing myself to moan louder to drown out the thoughts.

Distracted as he is, Mercer must sense that someone is near, and I open my eyes to see him turn his head to the side, not breaking the pace of his thrusts inside me. 'Fuck off or I'll slit your throat,' he snarls, and I catch sight of the figure far down the alley turn away after a few moments and disappear.

I clutch at him tighter, thinking to bite down on his shoulder again, but when Mercer turns his head back to me, he finds my mouth with his own, his teeth and tongue feral against mine in a harsh kiss that makes the pleasure mount in me twice as fast. Suddenly more eager for my satisfaction than I have ever been before, I pull Mercer's head closer as my hips push forward to meet his quickening thrusts, his pace growing rougher and faster, until a few moments later, I scream out into his mouth and Mercer groans against my lips and for the first time we come together.

As he works out the throes, my body shudders with its release and I gasp for breath, the cold air burning my throat painfully. By the time Mercer finishes, I am limp against the wall, held up only by his arm under my leg and his hand on my waist. For a few seconds, all I can hear is our ragged breathing.

Then, distantly, I feel his hand reach up to my hood and push it back from my head before he leans close and I hear his intake of breath, his mouth burying in my curls as he kisses my hair and breathes in the scent.

The gesture is as disconcerting as his unexpected arrival, and abruptly I feel a shiver move down my back, but whether it is due to the cold or my disquiet or the last remnants of my pleasure, I cannot tell, although I register well enough my desire to meet his strange action with ridicule rather than show my unease.

'Did you actually _miss_ me?' I manage to say mockingly, my question both incredulous and genuine, not expecting any part of his reaction to seeing me again.

Mercer pulls back and looks down at me, although I can hardly read his expression. 'My poor little bird,' he says softly, brushing my hair back from my face, a small smile at his mouth. 'You have no idea, do you?'

I try to understand what he means, uncertain if I really want to have any idea of how he has missed me, or if he means something entirely different - but I have little time to wonder, as Mercer finally pulls out of me and releases my body, and I have to focus only on keeping my balance on my limp legs as the Guildmaster steps back to refasten his trousers.

'Come on,' he says, nodding at my own trousers still tangled around one leg. 'You'll freeze.'

Needing no further instruction and feeling the cold bitterly as the heat dies quickly from my bare skin, I hurry to redress my lower body. I'm just finishing fastening my trousers when Mercer turns around and starts to walk away. Still dazed from my pleasure and utterly confused by his sudden appearance, I follow without a word, trying to keep up with his long strides as he leads the way to the Silver Quarter, the cold air soon clearing my head and allowing me to start to think properly.

 _He didn't think I could do it myself,_ I realise, understanding with a rush of irritation why he is here now. Despite my undeniable lack of progress with tracking down Karliah, I find myself furious that Mercer clearly felt the need to follow me to Windhelm, without first sending me a message to ask how I was getting on. _For all he knew, I could've killed her already,_ I think, although I have to admit to myself that Mercer likely has other ways of knowing what is happening without needing me to write him a letter to tell him. _But if he knows exactly what's happening, or not happening, why did he even bother sending me to find her in the first place?_

By the time we reach his house and Mercer unlocks the door, my confusion and irritation have turned my mood bitter and put my body on edge, uncertain as to what he intends to do now that he is here.

Mercer stops abruptly just inside the hallway, and it doesn't take me long after closing the door behind me to realise the reason for his pause. _He's probably never seen his house looking like this,_ I realise, having spent what time I had free when not scouring the Grey Quarter on instead trying to make Mercer's house more habitable, stealing what food and supplies I could from the neighbouring houses and keeping the fires lit and the place clean. I suddenly regret my efforts as they are clearly a surprise to the Guildmaster, and he turns to me with one eyebrow raised.

'At least you have some uses,' he says. 'You like playing the little wife, then, do you?'

'Wife?' I repeat, the word tasting sour on my tongue with the thought of being bound to him in that way. 'I was trying to keep warm and survive, not playing at being your wife.'

He only laughs a quick laugh at that. 'And clearing out the cobwebs and lighting candles helps your survival, does it?' he says with a sarcastic smirk. 'All right, be a good wife then and get into bed.'

'I'm not your wife,' I snap, feeling my cheeks flush red.

'Then be a good whore and get into bed,' Mercer says. He points up the stairs. 'I'll be there in a minute, and maybe I'll treat the little bird to what she likes best.'

I fold my arms and glare at him. 'I didn't need you to come here, you know,' I say sharply, wanting to make it clear to him, even as some part of me wonders just what it is that he thinks I like best. 'I was managing fine. I haven't found Karliah yet, but I'm just... I'm following up on some leads.'

The amused smirk lingers at his mouth. 'Aren't you resourceful,' he says lightly. 'But I'm not interested in talking about Karliah. Now go upstairs.'

'So why are you here?' I demand, even though I know the question is pointless and if he wanted me to know his intentions, he would have told me.

'Because I missed my little bird, of course.' He tilts his head, his smile almost genuine, and I suddenly wonder if he is going to try to kiss my hair again just to unnerve me even more. 'Upstairs, Wren. Don't make me say it another time, unless you'd prefer to spend the rest of the night out in the snow.'

Well aware that he is not going to tell me any more and having little desire to provoke him into acting on his threat, I realise I have little choice in obeying. _And I can't deny the part of me that wants to feel warm again, even if it has to be at his hands._ 'Fine,' I snap, starting to climb the stairs. 'Just know that I will find Karliah soon and I don't need your help to do it.'

I hear his quiet laugh as I near the top of the stairs. 'Oh, no, I don't think you'll need my help at all,' he says idly, although I scarcely hear the sarcasm in his voice, and as I reach the top of the stairs and walk across the hallway to his bedroom, I start to wonder if I imagined it.

 

*

 

Mercer keeps me locked in his house for two days, and I find myself only too willing to heed the imprisonment voluntarily, glad for any reason to be out of the cold harsh city streets. _And he keeps me warm enough, even when I am naked,_ I think, enjoying the heat of my blood and the overworked ache in my body when the Guildmaster takes his pleasure of me. Yet I find it difficult to ignore my unease at his continued disinterest in talking about Karliah and my lack of progress in finding her, and I cannot help wondering why he is suddenly more interested in spending time with me than hunting her down and making her pay. When I tell him I will happily return to the Grey Quarter and resume my search for the Dunmer thief, he only sighs and directs me to his bed, before proceeding quite effectively to make me forget all about the name Karliah for a few hours.

The third night after his unexpected arrival in Windhelm, Mercer has me stripped and standing in his bedroom. He seems inclined to leave the shutters open night and day, and though the clear glass windowpanes are sturdy enough, the cold air nips at my naked body and I stay standing close to the fire as Mercer walks over to the bed, still fully clothed. When he draws one of his golden daggers, I feel my heart flutter in fear, but a moment later the sound of the sheet tearing as he cuts a strip from it sends a keen shiver down my spine. _Just like the time he cut my shirt apart,_ I think, remembering it vividly, and as Mercer crosses the room with his blade now sheathed and carrying the strip of torn material, I realise he intends for this to begin like it did the first time I was in his bed. _He_ _clearly_ _just doesn't have shackles in his house here._

Unnerving me with another kiss to my hair, Mercer binds my hands behind me with the strip of fabric, winding it loosely about my wrists. 'Lie down, little bird,' he murmurs when he has finished the task and steps away from me.

I obey and walk over to the bed, dropping down onto the furs as my heart starts skipping a little faster in expectation, feeling the soft binds against my wrists and shivering at the now all-too-familiar sense of being at his mercy. _And the light kisses only make me more nervous,_ I think, but I have barely any time to wonder at Mercer's curiously uncharacteristic gestures, as he climbs onto the bed after me and gently pushes me down flat.

He takes my knees in his hands and parts my legs before settling himself between them, leaning down low to lick slowly over the inside of my thighs and wet my cool skin with his warm tongue. My body more responsive to his touch than I would like, I feel a keen tension suddenly rise in my lower stomach in anticipation and my breath catches loudly in my throat before his mouth even moves to my core a few seconds later.

I close my eyes and bury my bound hands into my furs beneath my body, feeling the softness and the steadily growing warmth of the covers under me. _This hurts my arms and hands,_ I think vaguely, feeling my tied wrists squashed beneath my body and knowing it will start to become uncomfortable, but such thoughts are quiet and insignificant in my mind, and all I can think of is my quickened breathing punctuated with whimpers of pleasure, louder than both the gently crackling fire and the wet sound of Mercer's mouth between my legs. I soon give myself over to the heat flooding through me and I drown in the feeling as he draws it out in me, slowly and deliberately, for what feels like hours, although I know my needy body could never last so long. _Or much longer at all,_ I realise, as a fractured moan escapes me and my muscles tighten, my legs pressing eagerly around his head to hold him in place, his hair tickling my thighs still slick from his tongue.

I am only a few pleasurable seconds away from my satisfaction when Mercer pulls away and pushes himself upright. My mind does not register the loss at first, dazed and still half-expecting a release to be moments away, but as I feel Mercer's weight leave the bed and I hear his footsteps across the room, I cannot stop my pitiful moan of longing as the feeling he has built up inside me starts to fade. I force myself to recover my senses and open my eyes, thinking that perhaps he intends to return with some device to use on me - and in that moment, I decide that even the leather or another tool would at least provide some sort of release for me from the keen tension he has built up inside me - but when I turn my head and notice that Mercer has moved to stand in front of the window with his arms folded and his back to me, I realise after a few long seconds that he has no further intention to finish what he started.

I make a frustrated whimper, feeling the wetness between my thighs as I bring my legs together and struggle to sit upright, my body weak and my arms useless in their binds. 'What are you doing?' I say, my voice breathless.

He turns around to face me, his eyes glittering in the firelight with his amusement as he looks over my naked body. 'Did you want me for something?' he says lightly. 'You seem a little worked up, Wren.'

'Please,' I beg wildly, needing a release from the feeling and thinking of nothing else. 'Please touch me.'

'Touch yourself,' he says with a smirk. 'I've got things to do, you know, beyond seeing to you.'

I move my arms against their binds pointedly at his suggestion, hoping my incapacitation will convince him to take pity on me when he knows I cannot physically do what he suggests.

'That doesn't stop you,' Mercer says, laughter in his eyes. 'Get creative. Go rub up against the bed post if you're that desperate to get off.'

He turns to the look out through the window at the snowy street once more. After a few seconds, it dawns on me through my desperation that he really intends to leave me as I am, and with that, my unsatisfied pleasure turns to frustration that burns hotter and hotter with every second he stands there doing nothing.

'I thought you said you had things to do,' I say eventually, trying to keep the edge out of my tone, but when Mercer only continues to ignore me, I give up trying to restrain my annoyance. 'Just fucking finish me,' I demand.

'Frustrating, isn't it?' the Guildmaster muses, his voice quiet and low where mine is sharpened with my irritation. 'When people don't do what you tell them.'

I glare at his back, annoyed by his comment, when for the past two days I have done exactly as he told me to, however he liked it done. 'Mercer,' I say, hearing the pleading tone in my voice and hating the sound of it, but aware enough by now that begging is one of the few ways to get him to please me.

'Wren,' he replies mockingly, not even turning around to look at me, and I realise that pleading with him is not going to help me this time.

 _But I fucking need him to help me right now,_ I think, my body not only hot and craving its release but now burning with fury that I should even be so susceptible and powerless to his touch, that I am so subject to him and his inclinations. 'You're a son of a bitch,' I tell him viciously, preferring to insult him rather than think of my own weaknesses.

He laughs quietly, his gaze still on the street outside the window. 'And you're a poor little slut who wants to get off but can't. We all have problems, don't we?'

Despite knowing he has no intention to finish what he started, I stay sitting where I am for a minute, waiting in the hope that he will change his mind. I even go as far as making a small pained whimper just as I know he likes it, but when I get no reaction, irritation cuts swiftly through me, keener as any pleasure he gave me.

'Fine, I don't need you anyway,' I say coolly.

Mercer glances back at me, a smirk at his mouth. 'Right, you only needed me for the past ten minutes I've been licking your cunt,' he says, sarcasm dripping in his voice.

I feel my cheeks flush angrily, with my heightened frustration as much as his words, and suddenly I feel the determination to prove him wrong, to prove that I am not as useless and in need of his presence here as he clearly assumes I am.

I throw him a final cold scowl before I lie back down on the bed, shuffling onto my side and facing away from Mercer, wanting to neither look at him or be looked at by him. As I bring my legs together and adjust my body to lie more comfortably on my side, my breath catches at the sensitivity between my legs, suddenly conscious of the wet warmth there and the way my movement sends a jolt of pleasure through me, nothing like the feeling Mercer drew out in me but enough to make me wonder if I do really need him at all. I adjust my hips again, in a small rocking motion that makes me gasp quietly with the sensation. I draw my leg closer across the other, feeling the pleasurable tension in my muscles as I grind my hips, trying to work myself against my slick thigh, but all too soon I arrive at the bitter realisation that it's not the same as Mercer's tongue and the feeling he built up only persists, aching harder now with my feeble efforts, and a keen whine of frustration escapes me before I can stop myself.

'Having trouble, little bird?' Mercer's smug tone lets me know just how much he is enjoying my pitiful performance.

'Fuck off,' I snap, his amusement grating on my already frustrated senses, before I start wondering if I should do as he previously suggested and try to use the bed post to my advantage. _He'd love that,_ I think, and promptly decide that giving him any further enjoyment of watching me bound and struggling is the last thing I want to do.

Deciding to try to tackle at least one of those problems, I gently pull my hands against my binds behind my back, working at the knot Mercer tied there and soon finding myself caught off-guard when the fabric loosens in barely a minute, quickly falling free from my wrists. Not caring to even wonder at his surprisingly poor efforts in binding me and whether letting me break free was his intention all along, I sigh with the pleasure as I move my arms to get the feeling back into them before my mind quickly returns to the other pleasure it so desperately seeks.

I tentatively reach my hand down, my breath catching sharply in my throat when my fingers slip wet between my legs. _He's good and he fucking knows it,_ I think, despising my body for how it reacts so willingly to the efforts of a man such as Mercer, but the thought soon falls away from my mind when even the barest awkward brush of my fingertips between my legs sends a flutter of eager pleasure through me, keener than I expected and with an unmistakable flicker of triumph that it is not Mercer but myself who is responsible. _I don't need him._

I close my eyes, snuggling my body into the warm furs beneath me and feeling their heat work through my body as my fingers start to move, quick and uncertain, not entirely sure how to do it to myself. Despite my hesitation and the unfamiliarity of my touch, it is not long before I find the place where Mercer works so well and my thighs tighten abruptly around my hand with the discovery. My breath catches with the pleasure swiftly rising in me, my hips rocking and my fingers slipping faster in my wetness, unskilled and desperate to chase the feeling however I can.

Before I even expect it, the pleasure peaks in me suddenly, my back arching a little as my hips rise against my fingers, and I come with hitched cry of frustration as much as of pleasure, as the feeling cuts through me fast and brief and over before I can even truly comprehend it.

Regaining my breath and my senses far too easily, I lie still in the furs for a minute as the feeling fades as quickly as it came, leaving me bereft rather than satisfied.

I take my hand from between my legs as frustration suddenly rises twice as strong as the pleasure, longing for the helpless daze that usually overtakes me following the Guildmaster's efforts and instead now finding my mind is far too clear.

 _What the fuck am I even doing, touching myself because Mercer Frey wouldn't touch me?_ The reality of the present situation hits me and I scramble to sit upright, gathering the furs about my naked warm body and flushing red with humiliation as I turn my head to look at Mercer, only then remembering that he is there.

 _And watching me._ Mercer remains standing at the window but his attention is firmly on me now, and the dancing firelight catches the desire in his eyes at my display. 'Poor little bird,' he says in a low voice, a small satisfied smile at his mouth yet his expression devoid of sarcasm, and I know he enjoyed watching me. 'Shall I make it better for you? Give me your wet little hand and I'll show you how to please that cunt of yours.'

'No, thanks,' I say coldly, although some part of me is tempted by the idea of having him finish properly what I clearly could not. Suddenly furious with myself for the thought and finding my desire now completely doused in the least satisfying way possible, I throw aside the furs and get up from the bed, looking around in search for my clothes.

'And where are you going?' Mercer says idly, as I locate my smallclothes and trousers by the fire.

'Out,' I answer, thinking to spend some of my stolen coin in a tavern as far away from the Guildmaster's house as possible.

Mercer doesn't respond right away, and when I glance at him, I realise he is looking out the window again. 'I suppose that's best,' he says eventually as I quickly fasten my trousers and try to locate my binding. 'You probably should start looking for Karliah like I told you to.'

'Start?' I repeat, the word aggravating my already frustrated temper. 'I was looking for her for a week before you interrupted me.'

He smirks as he turns to face me, his arms folded and his gaze flickering over my still-naked breasts. 'And you were doing so well before I interrupted you,' he says, the sarcasm back in his voice.

'I've tried,' I say sharply, as I spot my binding on the floor near Mercer and decide I'd rather go without it than close the gap between us. 'I've looked for her night and day, and I've asked everyone I can ask without it becoming suspicious. The Dunmer aren't fond of being questioned, you know.'

As I catch sight of my shirt lying on the floor near the dresser, I hear the Guildmaster's harsh laugh. 'Are you a thief or a fucking guard?' he says, and I hear the familiar impatient edge return to his voice. ' _Questioned?_ Gods, do you ask people where they keep their gold when you're robbing their house too? You shouldn't have to question people, you fucking idiot. Of course they're not going to tell you anything.'

'Actually, someone did say they'd seen her,' I retort, feeling my face flush with anger as I snatch up my shirt and pull it on, thinking of the shopkeeper's brief word about the violet-eyed woman.

'And I've seen a little bird with a shred of intelligence in her head,' Mercer says sarcastically. 'That doesn't mean I'm telling the truth.'

I ignore him, well aware that he is trying to provoke me, just as he wanted to provoke my frustration only a few minutes ago. _For once, I'd love to not fall prey to his games,_ I think, before I realise that it is more likely for me to walk right into Karliah in the street than it is for my temper and my body to withstand the manipulations of Mercer Frey.

'Gods, why did I even let you join my Guild?' he says with a sigh as I finish fastening my shirt. 'When you tripped up to my desk behind Brynjolf in your tight clothes, I though you were just a frigid little girl begging for a good hard fuck. Now I'm starting to think you're actually stupid.' He laughs at my continued furious silence. 'Somehow I suspect you spent the week touching yourself instead of searching for Karliah as I told you to.'

I give up my search for my jacket and glare viciously at him, still weak to my desire - except now my desire is only to bite back at him rather than be touched by him.

'You know, maybe Karliah isn't even here anymore,' I point out. 'Or maybe she never was. Maybe you should face the possibility that you've been outsmarted.' I pause, enjoying my words too much. 'Again.'

'Have I?' Mercer inclines his head, eyes narrowing, a small smile at his mouth. 'We'll see. You know, you little whores are more predicable than you think you are. You and Karliah might both realise that some day.'

Suddenly, he strides forward to close the gap between us, and before I can back away he grabs hold of my arm roughly and pulls me along behind him as he crosses the room and wrenches open the door.

'What the fuck-' I start, tripping as I try to keep up with him, his grip on my arm unyielding as he marches me along the hallway and to the stairs.

'You said you were going out,' he says mildly. 'I'm helping you.'

'But I'm not-' I gasp as he tugs sharply on my arm to keep my moving and I nearly tumble down the stairs. 'I'm not properly dressed-'

'I've told you before, the less clothing you wear, the more agreeable you are,' Mercer says lightly, before we reach the front door a few seconds later and draws back the lock. 'And I think the more agreeable you are, the more likely you'll survive out there in the big scary world, Wren. But why don't we find out?'

He pulls open the door and a rush of cold air hits me harder than the strength of his hand. Before I can even try to speak, Mercer pushes me over the threshold and out into the street.

I gasp as my bare feet touch the icy stone, quickly realising that a light snow is falling and a sharp breeze cuts through the bitterly cold night air.

'Have fun,' Mercer says as I whirl around and step forward with the intention of getting back inside the house. 'Maybe the cold will freeze that fucking tongue of yours quiet.'

'Mercer-' I start, the falling snow wetting my shirt in moments, but he slams the door in my face and I hear him draw the bolt across.

Anger flares red-hot inside me and I raise my fist to pound on the door. 'You bastard!' I shout. 'Let me in!'

The only answer I get is silence, and as I continue to hit the door with no response for at least a minute, I soon realise that he is just as serious about leaving me out here under-dressed as he was about leaving me unfulfilled in his bed.

I clutch at the door handle, my body shivering violently and the night air chilling me to the bone through my shirt and trousers. 'Mercer,' I say, trying to make my voice softer even as my teeth start to chatter. 'Please let me in.'

It's several more painfully long seconds later when the door opens and relief courses through me, but the Guildmaster only shoves my jacket into my arms and drops my boots at my feet before stepping back into the house and putting his hand on the door to slam it shut again.

'Please, at least give me some money,' I beg, realising my coin purse is in my satchel and knowing that the taverns won't let me stay without paying for at least one drink. _And picking any locks is the last thing I can do right now._

Mercer only laughs, and I see the amusement in his dark eyes as he looks over my shivering body. 'You've got a mouth and a cunt, haven't you? Go make some money the only way you're worth anything,' he tells me, before he suddenly pushes the Blade of Justice into my hands and I almost drop my jacket into the snow as I clutch at the dagger. 'Better yet, go fucking do what I told you to do.'

Before I can argue or plead, he slams the door in my face and I hear it lock once again, and it hits me in a rush of fury that he really is going to leave me out here.

'Fuck you!' I shout through the door, wishing I had drawn the Blade of Justice and buried it in his chest when I had the chance. _I was wrong, he is cold-hearted enough to live in this fucking place,_ I think as I turn away, shaking with both the cold and my rage, before I notice a couple of people walking down the street past Mercer's house, and through the lightly falling snow, I realise that their gazes are firmly on the screaming young woman on the doorstep, barefoot and shivering. 'What?' I snap viciously at them, trembling with the cold and yet burning hot with humiliation.

The couple quickly keep walking, and I'm suddenly glad for the snow and darkness that obscures the expression on their faces as they pass by Mercer's house. _Fuck them, and fuck him._

My hands numb and clumsier than ever, I manage to strap my dagger to my thigh before pulling on my jacket and boots, although they do little to warm my already ice-cold body and I wonder what the hell I am supposed to do. A brief moment passes while I consider trying to beg again, to promise Mercer whatever he likes in exchange for letting me back inside. The thought turns my stomach and chills me colder than the snow. _I'd rather die out here than give him the satisfaction of my submission even one more time._

The realisation hits me hard. _Fuck Mercer, fuck Karliah... and fuck Astrid,_ I think, not caring if I never fulfil my end of Mercer's deal and he subsequently never tells me where I can find Astrid. _I'm done being his plaything. I don't care if I never get my revenge. I'm done._

I stuff my hands into the pockets of my jacket and walk away from Mercer's house, barely feeling the cold for those few fragile moments as I realise I am, finally, finished.

_And that feeling is more satisfying than anything I have ever felt at his hands._

The breeze bites at my flushed cheeks, reminding me of my pressing concern, but my mind is suddenly sharper than before and I barely think as I start to make my way to the Grey Quarter, remembering more than one abandoned house from my search for Karliah and feeling confident that I will at least have shelter for the night. _And I_ _also_ _remember more than one unlocked house, with enough coin hidden under the mattresses to get me on a carriage out of Windhelm,_ I think, finding it easy to forget my reluctance to steal from the Grey Quarter's inhabitants, deciding that I am in just as much need right now. _And what I need is to get out of this city and never go near Mercer Frey again._

I can see little beyond the falling snow and my own white breath clouding the night air in front of me as I enter the Grey Quarter a short while later, my boots slipping on the ice as I near enough run through the walkways in an attempt to keep my body warm. Despite my best efforts, bitter icy knives of cold air work at my skin through my damp clothing and I can only try to ignore the way my body trembles with the freezing temperature. _I'll be inside soon,_ I tell myself, although I suddenly struggle to remember exactly where I could find even one of the abandoned hovels I previously discovered, and I feel panic start to edge in on my mind as I realise I have no idea where I am going. _I can't even remember where the taverns are._ When I hear raised voices in the alley ahead, my heart skips a beat and I quickly backtrack to take a different alley, not wanting to cross paths with any of the drunk Nords as they make one of their rounds _._ _Running into them would be risky enough. If they realised how debilitated and weak I am from the cold, it would be even worse._

When I turn a corner a minute later, I look ahead through the shadows and falling snow to see a couple embracing against the wall at the far end of the alley, a tall dark-haired man with his hands on a woman as he leans down to whisper in her ear. Having little desire to interrupt them, I am about to turn away and find an alternative way when I hear a muffled cry, and as I narrow my eyes against the snow and look again, I suddenly realise that it is not a willing entanglement but a struggle, and the woman against the wall isn't a woman at all but a skinny Dunmer girl of little more than ten. _And the man's a Nord, and strong, and clearly has no intention of letting her go.  
_

Something cuts sharply inside my stomach, fiercer than the cold and far harder to ignore.

'What the fuck are you doing?' I say sharply, but the distance and the blankets of snow muffle my words and the Nord does not hear me, and it's then that I see his bare hard cock in his hand while his other hand takes a fistful of the Dunmer girl's hair, and I watch as he forces her down to her knees.

The snow silences my footsteps too, and he does not realise I am there until I am ten feet away from him. 'Let her go,' I say sharper, pulling my cold hands from pockets.

His head whips around, but when he sees I am not a guard but a small and young woman alone, he only sneers, and it's then that I recognise him. _He's the man I saw harassing the dark elf when I first came to the city,_ I realise. _He spat on her and punched her and kicked her._

'Fuck off, bitch,' he says to me. 'I'm teaching this slut a lesson. You can have yours after, if you want it.'

His words spark something inside me, vicious and hot, and suddenly I no longer feel the chill in the air or the bitter wet kiss of the snow. 'I said let her go,' I repeat, closing the gap between us but doing it one step at a time, aware that I am barely taller than the girl and that neither of us reach the man's shoulders. _And i_ _f he smashes her head against the wall behind her_ _because I moved too fast_ _, it will be my fault._

'And I said fuck off or you'll be next,' he snarls, as vicious as Mercer when someone interrupted us in the alley.

_Except some part of me wanted what Mercer did, whereas this girl doesn't want any of it._

Before I can question what I am doing, my numb hand drops to the Blade of Justice at my thigh. 'Did you fucking hear me?' I say. 'Let her go or I'll cut your throat.'

The Nord hears clearly enough the soft singing of my dagger as I draw it from its sheathe, but his hand stays wound in the girl's hair, keeping her on her knees in the snow as he turns his head back to me. 'You want to die for a fucking grey-skinned bitch?' he says, and I realise his other hand has drawn a dagger of his own from his hip.

'No, I think I want to kill you,' I say.

His coarse laugh is barely out of his mouth and my mind has barely processed what I am doing when I leap forward and strike out with the Blade of Justice at the man's neck. The Nord is far quicker than I expected and he moves backwards out of the swipe of my dagger a fraction of a moment before the razor-sharp blade grazes his skin. He hesitates only long enough to wrench his hand free of the girl's hair before he steps forward and lashes out wide at me with his own blade; I dart to the side as he lunges towards me, my numb clumsy feet slipping on the snowy ground as I struggle both to keep my balance and to keep away from the broad cut of his blade, suddenly panicked at the sheer size of him and my ungainly cold body.

When he lunges at me again, angling the blade to plunge into my chest, I find myself paralysed in the path of the Nord's dagger for one brief moment, until I catch sight of the girl, on her knees only a few feet behind him, and suddenly I realise what will happen if I stay frozen in fear where I am. At the last moment, I dance backwards, letting the Nord stumble forward with his force, and before he can regain his balance, I dart to the side again and lash out fast at his ribs, barely grazing him in my unmeasured swipe but the sharpness of the Blade cutting clean through his thick woollen clothing and the flesh beneath.

The Nord howls and staggers to the side, the sound of his cry more pleasing to me than anything I have ever heard, and I do not hesitate or think about what I am doing before I reach up and bury the Blade of Justice into the side of the man's neck.

He chokes loud and wet, blood spluttering from his mouth as I rip the Blade free and the wound on his neck opens wide, spilling his life over himself and me.

I stand still as the Nord collapses down to his knees before me, blood gargling from the wound, his eyes wide and terrified with the realisation that this is the end. My cold fingers tighten about my dagger, already knowing how easy it is to cut a kneeling injured man's throat.

I lower my dagger without bringing it to his neck. Instead, I kick him hard in the chest and he collapses onto his side with an agonised groan, spluttering again as his blood flows over the ground, the scarlet warmth melting the cold snow into a slush.

I stand watching until I see movement out of the corner of my eye and I realise the Dunmer girl has got to her feet, terror on her face.

'It's all right,' I say gently as I start towards the elf, quickly sheathing my bloody dagger so as not to frighten her. _But it's a little too late for that,_ I realise, as before I can open my mouth to reassure her further, the girl shrieks and runs away, slipping in the red wet snow in her haste to get away from me. She disappears down an adjoining alley, and I do not try to chase her, knowing it would be far unwiser than anything else I have done tonight. _A woman with a dagger and bloody hands, chasing a frightened child._

My breathing shallow, I bury my hands in a mound of fresh snow nearby, biting my lip against the bitter cold as I wash the blood away quickly. My skin stays a raw numb red when I pull out my hands a few seconds later, but I find neither the pain nor the cold truly registers in my mind.

_Even if I never get to Astrid, at least I've killed one person who deserved it._

I look down at him. The dark-haired Nord is working through his last painful ragged breaths as the blood stains the ground around him. I realise he still has his cock hanging out of his trousers, and his dagger lies nearby. For a moment, I wonder what they will think happened to him, when someone finds him.

 _Justice,_ I think, before I hear the sound of voices, faint but somewhere too close for my liking, and I know I cannot linger here any longer.

I leave the dying man in the alley behind me as I follow in the footsteps of the Dunmer girl, rounding a corner before slipping down into the shadows of another alley that I am sure leads to one of the main streets of the Grey Quarter, knowing that from there I can get my bearings and start to find my way to one of the abandoned hovels I previously discovered.

 _But the main streets might not be the wisest idea,_ I think, suddenly remembering that I am covered in blood. Panic rises inside me, freezing whatever hot satisfaction I felt at the sight of the Nord bleeding out on the ground. _If I haven't cleaned myself up by dawn and someone sees me..._ I start to think, before I quickly end the thought, not wanting to wonder what might happen should I stumble into the path of a guard in bright daylight.

My heart suddenly beating uneasily, I start to walk faster, until I feel a familiar shiver down my back that I somehow know has nothing to do with the cold or the thought of the dying Nord I have left behind me.

I reach down for the Blade too late. Before I can act, a hand covers my mouth from behind and for the second time in three days I feel the chill of a dagger against my neck, stopping me in my tracks as I feel someone's body pressing close behind me and I know I'd get my throat cut quicker than I could draw my dagger.

Fury cuts through me and I'm about to reach up and rip the hand away from my mouth, to curse at Mercer and tell him that he is sorely mistaken if he thinks this will go like the last time he held a knife to my throat, but I have barely moved when I realise the gloved hand over my mouth is smaller than Mercer's and the arms around my body are slender, and I realise with a jolt of fear that this is not one of Mercer's games. _This isn't Mercer._

'Aren't you the hero?' a soft voice murmurs in my ear, female and low and quieter than my footsteps beneath the sound of falling snow. 'Or should that be the villain?' The woman adjusts her hold on her dagger and I feel a shiver cut through me at its chill. 'But perspective doesn't change the fact that you're a murderer.'

My terrified heart skips a beat as I realise she must have seen me kill the Nord, and yet I suddenly find myself hardly caring that I have been caught for the crime, deciding that if this woman is going to hand me over to the guards, I will at least have justice as my defence.

'He deserved it,' I try to say against her hand, although it comes out as a garbled mumble. The woman uncovers my mouth a second later and I take a breath, trying to steady the racing of my heart. 'He was trying to hurt that little girl,' I tell her sharply. 'He had-'

The words die in my throat as I feel the blade press harder against my neck and I hear the woman make a quiet laugh.

'So you're the hero then,' she says. 'Thief turned assassin... and now lawkeeper.'

Her words freeze me far more than the ice-cold blade against my throat, and I can only stand in shock. _She knows me._

'Well, come on, Wren,' the woman says softly, my blood turning colder at her words. 'You better do what your Guildmaster told you. Why don't you reach for your dagger and cut my throat like you did the Nord back there? I surely deserve it too. And that's why you're here anyway, isn't it?'

My hand flutters down to the Blade of Justice on instinct, my heart thudding fiercely with my fear and my realisation of who it is holding me here at her mercy when our roles should be reversed, but before I can even reach for the Blade, the woman's free hand snakes around my body and she pulls my dagger from my thigh with ease.

'Too slow,' she murmurs. 'If you really planned to kill me, you should've known you'd have to be quicker than that.' I hear her drop my dagger to the snowy ground. 'So just how badly does Mercer care about his stupid pretty whore?'

'I'm not-' I start, but she presses her dagger harder against my throat and I suddenly fear to speak further.

'You know, I can't decide if I'm as stupid as you are,' she says softly, almost to herself rather than to me. 'When I saw you had followed me here, away from the Guild, away from Mercer... when I realised that out of everyone, he'd sent you, the new blood... I actually thought I could reason with you. I thought you might see him for what he is, that you might want to save the Guild from its destruction.' She makes another harsh laugh. 'But you're just a deluded whore, aren't you? You probably make more coin by spreading your legs for him than you do by stealing. I was a fool to even think you might help me.' Her free hand suddenly grabs a handful of my hair and jerks my head back, exposing my throat more fully to the bitter night air as she tightens her grip on the handle of her dagger. 'But that's all right,' she murmurs, barely audible over the panicked racing of my heart, her voice almost as quiet as the steadily falling snow. 'I can still use you, Wren.'

She moves quicker than my mind even processes her words, and before I can beg for my life, she takes the dagger from my neck and I hear it slip into a sheathe. My relief is short-lived, however, and after she releases my hair, I have barely a second to catch my breath or consider trying to run before she grabs both my arms - and a moment later, I find my hands bound behind my back for the second time tonight.

'Please,' I beg, as I feel coarse rope cut into my wrists and a painful shiver of fear wracks my body, barely believing what is happening, not wanting to acknowledge the fact that I am trapped and completely at her mercy. 'Let me go, and we'll talk-'

'I've been running for five years, do you think I have the time or patience to talk?' My plea only makes her tie the rope binds tighter, her voice now sharp and vicious. 'And I don't have the patience for a heroic escape. Try to run or make any noise, I'll cut your throat. Is that clear? You're coming with me. Whether you are dead or alive is your choice.'

I feel the hard thudding of my heart as she finishes tying my wrists securely and I suddenly realise how the Nord felt after I plunged the Blade of Justice into his neck. _He_ _knew he was going to die,_ _but he could only wait helpless for death to come_ _._

'But where are you taking me?' I manage to say, not sure if I want to know.

'Where the end began,' Karliah tells me, as she turns me around roughly and I see a flash of violet eyes before she pulls a hood down over my head and everything turns to darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading that record-length chapter, I hope you survived <3 Also can you tell I struggle with chapter titles sometimes? Gods this one is awful. But anyway. To the end notes.
> 
> Firstly, to the author on this website who stole my writing. I'm flattered (in all seriousness, I really am flattered) that you consider me worth stealing from and I'm truly honoured for everyone who has read even one chapter of my writing and enjoyed it and saw any value in it, but you have no idea how much of my heart goes into every scene of this story (as pathetic as that is to admit) and for someone to just lift a section out and pass it off as their own is really unfair. Don't fucking steal my shit again. This is meant to be a website where we can share our writing. OUR OWN WRITING. God knows I've been inspired by works I've read on here (how else would I ever know it's okay to write such shameless smut about video game characters?!) but there's a fucking difference between being inspired by what someone's written and straight up copying one of their scenes and just changing a few words (at least you could've edited the stolen section enough to be in-keeping with your use of past tense everywhere else, maybe?!). Look, don't do it again, to me or anyone else on this website, or anywhere, all right? Enjoy writing your own stuff and take pride in that. Don't steal. Thank you.  
> Although I must admit, as someone very dear to me pointed out, it's rather ironic how a scene in my story about thieves was stolen :)
> 
> And now that's out of my system, to my actual end notes. Too much dialogue gave way to too much narrative, sorry for the slow start to what was meant to be a more exciting instalment. Hopefully the rest of the chapter made up for it, but I know it's a bit all over the place and I'm well aware that the first section is just a rambly 3k of exposition of Wren's journey to/arrival in Windhelm that I wrote before realising it was probably irrelevant and should be cut out - but whatever, I'd already written it so I figured I might as well include it anyway rather than just delete it. And sorry, I couldn't resist, I know the story doesn't need it but Rolff Stone-Fuckface gets his throat cut in every playthrough of mine, so it was only right that I shoehorn it in implicitly here too. I can safely say that this is the one murder that Wren won't dwell upon at all.
> 
> Lastly, thank you sincerely for your kind words in response to my last update and my (complaining, as usual) commentary. This past week or two has been hard-going and half the time I still feel like I'm just banging my head against a wall, but I cannot thank you enough for the lovely comments. They make everything worthwhile a hundred times over <3
> 
> Update from future Luned - I posted a separate smut one-shot [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/14184210) that takes place during those few days in Mercer's house. Enjoy!


	20. Sanctum

_Astrid paces the length of the room slowly behind me, the soft sound of a strip of leather whipping every time she turns and retraces her steps._

_'Come on, sweet thing,' she murmurs, a strange whispering sound echoing with each word, like rushing water or a_ _fierce_ _wind. 'You know that if you don't hurt me, I will have to hurt you. But you know that you deserve it more than I do. And who decides what you deserve?'_

 _I try to turn around to face her, to hurt her as I long to, to prove she deserves_ _pain_ _more than I do, but_ _with_ _a panicked racing of my heart_ _I realise_ _that I am bound, my hands chained to the bed frame in front of me as I stand bent over and naked. Abruptly aware of the vulnerability of my position, I struggle viciously against the binds, feeling my wrists chafe and burn with the friction against the rough rope, and I see blood bubbling forth from the wounds, frothing over my skin and staining it like a rush of scarlet over snow._

 _I hear a quiet laugh behind me. 'Sweet child, you are only hurting yourself._ _D_ _oes_ _that_ _mean I have to hurt myself instead, or do I have to hurt you even more?'_

 _Before I can find out_ _which she intends to do_ _, my vision swirls and a wave of nauseous dizziness comes over me, and I know I am not going to ever hurt her, I know it is hopeless, I know I am going to bleed out on the ground until there is nothing left but the crushing weight I feel dragging my body down. I collapse forward and slump against the bed, my binds keeping me_ _held_ _there, the blood trickling slower_ _from my wrists_ _as I become drowsier and every inch of my body grows heavier._

_Behind my closed eyelids, I suddenly see the flash of a dagger and I hear the sound of some distant part of me tearing, being hacked at and sawn apart; my eyes do not open at my desperate command and my lips refuse to part to beg for my life, and I can only lie motionless and senseless, feeling nothing except the exhausting pressure drawing me deeper into the ground._

_'You're coming with me,' a voice whispers as I sink further, knowing it is hopeless to fight. 'Dead or alive.'_

_Astrid laughs softly, still standing behind me even as I slip into the void. 'Dead,' she replies to the voice for me, and I hear the whip of the leather, again and again, echoing in my mind but not touching my skin. 'Dead,' she says again, and she repeats the word with each slap of the leather, the rhythm like steady footsteps, like thundering rain, as sure as my own slowing heart beat, the sound and her voice becoming a part of me until I am certain that each quietening thud of my heart is pronouncing the same word._

 

I come to consciousness slowly, the echo of Astrid's words in both my head and my heartbeat. Bright light sears through my eyelids and a foul taste lingers in my mouth as I listen to the sound of the leather whipping through the air, before I start to comprehend that the sound is not one of leather but of hooves crunching in snow. It is a few minutes later that my groggy senses sharpen a little further and I realise I am not in a bed nor chained to one, but rather I am astride a horse, perched before the saddle with my hands bound behind my back - and it is the uncomfortable combination of the unfamiliar movement beneath me and the rough rope chafing at my wrists that jolts me firmly back into reality.

I sit quietly for a minute, my eyes still closed against the harsh light, feeling Karliah's slim arms around me as she holds the reins and guides the horse onward. _But onward where?_ I think, listening to the crunching snow as I try to make sense of my decidedly hazy recollection of the past few hours. _Astrid wasn't real, but the dagger was,_ I think, remembering well enough the feeling of slender hands grabbing my hair and the sound of the blade sawing through a hank of curls. _And violet eyes, I remember those, and the foul taste of some liquid tipped down my throat, before the hood was back over my head and everything went black._

Tentatively, I open my eyes, but one glance at the blinding white expanse of endless snow and empty pale sky leaves my head spinning and my eyes searing at the brightness. I squeeze my eyes tight shut again, seeing stars and fire behind my lids as nausea rises inside me. I swallow quickly, but the lingering sour taste from the unknown concoction Karliah gave me is enough to make my stomach turn; coupled with the unfamiliar motion of the horse underneath me and the abrupt realisation that I am trapped seemingly in the middle of nowhere with a woman who no doubt means to kill me, I feel a wave of dizzying panic come over me. As sickness rises suddenly up my throat and my mouth fills with bile, I draw a desperate breath, gasping at the vicious coldness of the air that I draw into my lungs, the shock quickly freezing whatever inclination my body had to expel the foul taste from itself.

Over my desperate steadying breaths, I feel the arms around me slip away, only to return a second later.

'Drink,' a soft voice behind me says, and I feel the lip of a waterskin against my mouth.

I turn my head away instinctively, frightened of being subjected to more of the terrible taste already in my mouth and whatever poison she must have used on me.

'It's water, Wren,' Karliah says with a quiet sigh. 'And you should be thanking me. Now drink.'

When she holds the waterskin to my mouth once more, it's only a few moments later that I open my mouth, seeing no other option. _If I'm going to die anyway, I might as well try and wash this taste from my mouth first, even if it is with more poison._

Relief courses through me as crisp and pleasant as the liquid that slips down my throat as I drink from the skin. Realising that it is indeed water and nothing else, I drink eagerly - or as eagerly as the Dunmer holding the skin lets me, her hand taking it away before I've even swallowed enough to fully take the taste from my mouth and soothe my throat.

Although part of me longs to beg for more water, I refuse the desire as Karliah tucks away the waterskin somewhere behind me. _I decided I was done with being Mercer's plaything, and I'm not going to start being someone else's,_ I think, although I wonder if it would be smarter to play into her hands, if it might mean staying alive a little longer.

'What did you give me earlier?' I ask her, my voice faint and hoarse with its underuse and the sour bile still in my throat.

Karliah still hears me well enough. 'A sleeping potion,' she tells me. 'And something for the cold. Turns out the two shouldn't be mixed. I thought for a minute you might've caught a fever while you slept.'

Her careless tone over the potential poisoning of her captive only confirms my suspicion that she means to kill me, before I suddenly register the rest of her words. _Something for the cold?_ I think, wondering why she should even care if I froze alive, and that's when I realise I am wrapped in a heavy cloak, the thick furs protecting my body from the bitter icy wind that whips at my face. _I can hardly feel the cold, even though we are surrounded by enough snow to damn near blind me._

Before I can speak to question her, the Dunmer murmurs a word to the horse and the movement beneath my body quickens its pace. 'We'll be there soon enough,' Karliah says. 'Now be quiet.'

With the discomforting motion beneath me, I find myself more than willing to obey, suspecting that the sour remnants of her potion would rise up my throat again if I opened my mouth and knowing full well that speaking would be a waste of my considerably compromised energy anyway. _She's not going to tell me anything, but nor has she cut my throat yet,_ I think, and I resign myself to remaining as cooperative as I can with the violet-eyed thief at least until my strength is recovered and I can make sense of what she intends to do. _I can only hope that I find out before it's too late._

It's not long before I come to the conclusion that despite Karliah's unexpected measures to keep me warm, her intention must be to freeze me to death. If I thought I knew the meaning of cold from my time in Windhelm, I am soon taught a harsher lesson than any I have received at Mercer's hands. We ride for what must be hours, although time soon has little meaning, nor does my sense of location; as my tired eyes slowly adjust to the light and my dizzy nausea settles down, I take small peeks from beneath my lashes, finding the wide colourless sky and the barren landscape blanketed in white to be little changed each time I brave a look. _All I wanted was to be away from the fucking snow,_ I think, entirely uncertain whether we are heading north or south or whether we have slipped from Skyrim into some frozen plane of oblivion, but wherever we are, it's only a short while before the warming potion Karliah gave me starts to wear off and shivers begin to wrack my body. By the time the light is dimming and I see the shadowy shape of some crumbling ruin built into a small hilly mound far ahead, the snow is falling thicker and I am trembling violently with the cold, barely caring that I am prisoner to the woman who has sought to destroy Mercer and the Guild and will no doubt destroy me too in the process. _I just wish she had chosen to kill me somewhere warmer,_ I think, my exhausted body slumping back against Karliah of its own volition, every inch of me tired and desperate to retain whatever heat it can, even if it means leaning close against the woman who means to kill me.

Karliah's arms around me are as cold as I am, however, and she provides little in the way of warmth. By the time she reins in her horse in the dusky shadows of the ruin, the icy wind has numbed my face and left a heavy coating of snow over my freezing body. _And this place is little more than a scattering of broken stone,_ I realise, seeing little in the way of shelter, wondering just where we are going.

Karliah slips down easily from the horse and a moment later I feel her hands take my waist. I let her help me down to stand on the ground, my binds the least of the reasons for my immobility. Determined not to collapse at Karliah's feet, I use the last of my strength to keep myself standing upright, my legs sore and shaking from the ride, but I barely have time to gather my senses and look around at my captor before I feel a hand grab my shoulder and push me forward towards the ruin.

'Move,' the quiet voice says from behind me, almost lost beneath the fierce winds. 'If you try to run, I'll feather your back with arrows.'

I do not reply, partly to retain some dignity and partly because I am too cold to open my mouth. _And where am I going to run?_ I think, seeing nothing but the darkening blank sky and the vast frozen landscape, hearing nothing but snowfall and wind, knowing well enough that we are miles from the city or any kind of civilisation. _And I am weaponless, and weak, and suddenly more afraid than I ever have been._

I force the thought from my mind and command my legs to work, stumbling forward through the thick snow towards the ruin and hearing the soft crunch behind me as Karliah follows, leading the horse in my wake. Almost hidden amidst a tumble of weathered stones, the base of the snowy mound appears to open up into a dark cavern dug beneath the hill.

The hand on my shoulder pushes me forward before my feet even hesitate in fear. Knowing that I have little choice and deciding that whatever is beneath the hill must surely be warmer than standing out in the bitter winds, I stumble forward to the entrance and walk beneath a crumbling archway, slipping on the icy stone beneath my cold feet as I step into the cavern and find myself standing in a small, low-ceilinged antechamber.

Shadows linger in every corner, and my tired eyes seem unable to adjust to the lack of light properly, seeing little in the chamber beyond the dark shapes of more collapsed stonework. I stop after only a few steps, and although I stand only a few feet from the entrance, I suddenly realise that I can no longer hear the fierce winds over the deathly silence that fills the antechamber. Despite being out of the bitter cold snow, a different chill hangs in the air, one that penetrates my bones and raises goosebumps on every inch of my skin.

 _I'm not leaving here alive,_ I think, the thought sudden and true, my heart clenching tightly with the unbidden realisation.

I turn back to the entrance, in that moment preferring to freeze alive or have my body pierced by a hundred arrows in an attempt to get away rather than walk willingly to whatever fate awaits me here, but before I can start towards the crumbling archway, I hear the sound of hooves on stone and through the shadows I catch sight of Karliah leading her horse into the antechamber after me, and with a grim dropping of my heart, I realise that I am going nowhere. _I'm bound and exhausted,_ I think, my hands straining once against their ropes as I instinctively try to draw my arms around my body. _But if I can get the horse, I might be able to get out of here._

I stand still, begging my eyes to adjust to the darkness faster, hearing the jingle of a bridle and the soft murmur of the Dunmer's voice as she whispers to the creature a few words that I cannot understand. As my vision starts to grow accustomed to the shadows, my gaze falls upon a dark empty doorway on the far side of the antechamber that leads deeper into the cavern. With a flicker of fear at what might be beyond there, I look back to Karliah as she loops the reins around a jutting fragment of stone, although I can see little of my captor beyond a tall slender shadow, with a dark bow on her back and a hood pulled low over her head. I watch as she pulls a satchel from the saddlebags and murmurs one last word to the horse before turning back to me, and when I realise that she intends for us to go through that shadowy doorway deeper into the cavern, it hits me that this may be the last chance I have to speak.

'Please,' I say quickly, my voice echoing in the small chamber, my frightened tone reverberating back into my ears louder than I expected. 'You don't have to kill me, there has to be something-'

Karliah's hand on my arm silences my pleas as she comes to stand before me, although I can see little of her face through the shadows. 'If you co-operate, I will not kill you, Wren,' she says softly, yet my brief flicker of hope dies in my stomach when I see the small careless shrug of her shoulders. 'But beyond that, whether you die here is not up to you or me. It's up to Mercer, and how much he values your life.' I hear the distaste sour her voice. 'Or how much he values any other part of you. Now keep your mouth closed and follow me.'

She releases my arm and walks towards the doorway leading further into the ruin. I hesitate, wondering how quickly I could move, whether I could mount the horse and reach the arch at the entranceway before Karliah drew her bow. _And whether I could fucking fly out of here on my bound wings,_ I think bitterly, knowing it would be just as likely as my notion of escape, and a second later I step forward resignedly to follow the Dunmer.

She leads the way along a dank passageway that winds far deeper into the hill than I expected, turning countless corners and dropping down several steep sets of steps. Clumsily I hurry after Karliah, stumbling in the dark as I follow the vague shadowy shape of her, my vision evidently nowhere near as good as hers. When the passageway opens up into a wide cavernous chamber, a wave of bitterly cold air hits my face and I slow my step, looking around blindly through the darkness. The silence is absolute here, and the air is thick with the stench of decay. With unease crawling down my back, I try to make sense of the shadows, finding myself unable to see anything in the cavern beyond what appear to be rows of low tables lining the walls on either side and one large table at the far end of the chamber - but as I strain my eyes and look harder, the shadowy shapes become all too clear.

 _Coffins, not tables,_ I realise with a jolt, and then I stop walking completely, fear coursing through me when I understand that I am standing in a tomb.

A few paces in front of me, Karliah suddenly stops too, her gaze fixed on one point through the shadows ahead, although I am certain it is not the fear of ending up in one of the coffins that has frozen her in place.

For several long seconds, we both stand completely still, my heart quickening in fear with every moment that passes in silence.

Karliah exhales, her breath a faint white plume that disappears quickly into the cold darkness. 'Shadows protect you,' she murmurs, so quiet I can barely hear, and yet somehow even her soft modulated voice seems deafening in this empty, dead chamber.

With her words, I feel a whispering shiver pass down my back, as if the cold air is answering her quiet prayer.

'What is this place?' I murmur, not feeling like I can raise my voice, as if doing so will also raise whatever long-dead beings that rest trapped in the coffins. _Gods, am I afraid of the dead and spirits?_ I scold myself, remembering that I am in greater danger from the one living person here than I am from any long-decayed corpse.

Karliah seems startled by the sound of my voice and she turns back to look at me sharply, almost as if she forgot I am here. If any expression remains on her face from her sudden hesitation and strange whispered words, I do not see it through the darkness. 'This is Snow Veil Sanctum,' she tells me, before she turns around abruptly and continues walking through the cavern, her pace quickened to long strides now. 'An ancient sanctuary. Or it was.'

Her words catch something in my heart, and I suddenly remember the deal I struck with Mercer and why I even came to Windhelm in the first place. _Now I'll never need to find the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary,_ I think, my stomach hollow with regret over the realisation that I have failed my task, even as some frightened little part of me is relieved I will never have to come face to face with Astrid, glad that at least she will not be the one to take my life as she did to my parents. _No, I'll just die at the hands of another murderer, and everything I have done to get close to Astrid will have all been for nothing,_ I realise, not wanting to think about the lives I have taken to bring me closer to the assassin, when now I know that I will likely never even see her again, let alone give her the justice she deserves.

 _But I don't get to decide that,_ I think bitterly as I stand in the cold dark tomb, remembering how Astrid spoke to me in my dream, remembering Mercer's words when he punished me, now reminded yet again that I do not have the power to decide anything, much less who lives and who dies. _If things were as they should be, I would be the one leading Karliah in binds to her death,_ I think, before I wonder if I deserve this fate as much as she does, if not more. _She just killed the previous Guildmaster for gold, whereas I have killed many for the mere chance of revenge._

Light suddenly flares at the far end of the chamber, startling me from my thoughts as the shadows around me scatter and dance, making it seem like the stone slab lids of the coffins are rising. My heart beating fast, I look around quickly for the source of the light, noticing that Karliah is kneeling in front of the larger coffin at the end of the chamber. Gloveless, her sea-grey hands hover over the fire that burns bright in a brazier on the ground there, deep red flames dancing beneath her palms.

 _From her palms,_ I correct myself, an uncomfortable sense of unease passing through me when I realise that Karliah is feeding the fire through magic. _And somehow I suspect she can inflict wounds far more quickly and effectively than I can heal them._

Despite my trepidation, my feet start to take me towards the blaze before I can think twice, my cold exhausted body drawn desperately to the promise of light and warmth, hardly caring if I am also walking towards my death. As I approach, I watch my footing as best I can, clumsy and cold and not wanting to trip over any of the broken stone debris. _Or walk over the blood,_ I think, noticing the discolouration on the ground not far from the fire at the end of the chamber, the dark stains pooled largely in one place and splattered over the nearby coffin, undeniably marking the spot where some creature lost its life.

Not wanting to consider where my own such marking will be nor whether one of these stone caskets will soon be mine, I hurry forward to the larger coffin, the surface of which is littered with a few smashed bronze urns, several rusted pieces of jewellery and a scattering of other trinkets, all covered in a heavy layer of dust and grime. Relieved at least that I see no gruesome devices for torture or sacrifice in amongst the items there, I stand away from the fire at a cautious distance and watch as Karliah clears a space on the coffin before setting down her satchel. Now in the light and seeing her properly for the first time, I realise that the Dunmer's armour might once have been Guild issue, but the dark leather and cloth pieces are more patched than not, the colour faded to a murky grey and the seams restitched more than once. The curved black glass bow on her back, however, is more noticeably cared for; illuminated by the fire, the bow's polished surface is smooth and like starlight on water, and the quiver affixed her back hip is full, the arrows feathered in a mix of grey and black. My gaze then falls upon the silver and black handled sword sheathed at her other hip, and the two glass daggers strapped to her slender thighs, but I barely have time to register my fear at her extensive weaponry before Karliah turns away from the coffin to look at me.

Her face still half-obscured by the shadow of her hood, the warm light from the fire does little to show her features, catching only the angle of her pointed jaw and the plum colour of her lips. 'You can sit down, Wren,' Karliah says, turning to the coffin once more and beginning to remove her bow and quiver from her back. 'He's not going to be here for a while.'

My legs seem far more willing to obey her commands than the rest of me, and before I can stop myself I drop down ungainly but obediently, my knees stiff and sore and my hands awkward behind my back as I settle on the freezing cold ground beside the small fire. The chill from the stone seeps through my trousers to my skin, but the fire in the brazier flares bright and soon its heat starts to reach me.

 _And it hurts,_ I think, feeling the painful tingling in my body as the warmth cuts its way through the cold numbness settled deep inside me. _Yet I've known other things to hurt more,_ I remind myself, and that is when I suddenly hear the rest of Karliah's words.

'He?' I echo, looking up at her over the flames. 'Who do you mean? Mercer?' At the dark elf's silence as she carefully places her quiver on the coffin, I realise I do not need her to answer. 'But what do you mean to do?' I ask, although I am not sure I want to know. 'Why are we here?'

Karliah does not answer me immediately, her attention on her bow as she lays it on the coffin. Her fingers run over the length of the curved glass briefly, and several seconds pass before she speaks again.

'This is where Gallus died,' she says, her soft voice edged. 'I expect you have been told about him.'

'I know what happened,' I say, my fears in no way alleviated when I realise she has brought me to the place where she murdered another member of the Guild.

Karliah turns her head to look at me, and the light catches the brief cold smile that twists her deep violet lips. 'And what did happen?' she asks, the smile vanishing but the sarcasm lingering in her words. 'Let's hear the story one more time.'

At her tone, I suddenly recall the ice in Brynjolf's voice when he told me what Karliah had done, his bitter pain at losing the man who must have been his friend, and my fear diminishes abruptly beneath my own unexpected anger. 'You killed Gallus,' I say sharply. 'After you betrayed him and stole from the Guild. And you would've killed Mercer if he hadn't managed to escape.'

Karliah's pretty mouth twists coldly once more, but I know it is nothing like a smile this time. 'One of those statements is true, at least,' she murmurs, before she turns abruptly back to the coffin and starts searching through her satchel. 'I know where your loyalties lie, so telling you what actually happened here would be a waste of my breath. And I suppose it doesn't matter now. This is where it ends, no matter what you believe.'

I try to ignore the ominous flutter of fear in my stomach from her words. 'You still haven't told me why I'm here,' I say, although I hardly need to ask anymore. _Destroying whatever parts of the Guild she can, whether it's me or Mercer,_ I think, and realising that I am dead already no matter what I say seems to make my voice stronger of its own accord. 'Tell me why you've brought me here and what you plan to do with me.'

The violet-eyed thief does not look up from her satchel. 'I plan to do very little with you, Wren,' she tells me as she retrieves her waterskin along with a small crystal potion vial. 'Whatever value you hold for Mercer, you're nothing to me. You're here because Mercer will come for you, and when he does, I will finish what I started five years ago.'

For a moment, the only sound I can hear is the quiet humming of the magical flames as I stare over them at Karliah, more than one question in my mind and each fighting to be asked first. 'So that's really your plan?' I say finally. 'To use me to lure Mercer here so you can kill him?'

Her silence is answer enough, but the multitude of other questions still remain in my mind, and I realise that if I am going to die, there is nothing stopping me from asking them.

'If you've wanted him dead so badly all this time, why haven't you tried to kill him before now?' I ask slowly.

I notice the sudden tension in the Dunmer's jaw as she brings the waterskin to her lips, but she still refuses to answer. As her silence continues, it only serves to cause my own tension to heighten faster as I realise my utter helplessness. _I_ _don't have the ability to_ _even warm my hands_ _at the fire_ _, let alone make her speak._

'You know, if you think Mercer's going to fall into your trap, you're a fucking idiot,' I say sharply, suddenly not caring if I antagonise her. 'He doesn't know where we are, or that you've even kidnapped me. For all he knows, I'm still wandering around in the Grey Quarter.'

Karliah turns to look at me then, irritation flashing in her violet eyes. 'I left him a message,' she says, her gaze flickering to my hair, and suddenly into my mind comes the hazy memory of the Dunmer cutting my hair in the dark corner of an alley before her quick hands tied the curl to the Blade of Justice with a strip of black cloth – but before I grasp the memory fully, the sour taste of the sleeping potion she gave me fills my mouth once more and the blurred images slip through my mind as quickly as they came.

'He still doesn't know where we are,' I say, not sure whether to trust my insubstantial memories of the last few hours and wanting to trust Karliah even less.

She shoves the waterskin back into her satchel, along with the crystal vial, seemingly having thought better of using whatever potion is within, whether on herself or me. 'If he's half as clever as he thinks he is, he'll know,' she says shortly. 'Where else would I want to end this but here?' Her voice hardens, and I realise her patience is wearing thin. 'Now be quiet. He's going to be at least a few hours behind us and I suspect you'd rather not have to wear a gag until he gets here.'

'You're still a fucking idiot,' I tell her, deciding that if she is going to gag me, I might as well tell her the truth while I can. 'Even if he knows you have me and he knows where we are, he's not going to come to rescue me. I'm nothing to him.'

'Nothing?' Karliah says with a quiet snort of derision. 'That wasn't what I saw.'

I falter, not sure what she means. 'Saw?' I repeat.

Her violet eyes turn onto me, her mouth curled into a mocking smile. 'If you want to retain your privacy, Wren, don't conduct your business in an alley,' she says icily. 'And maybe close the shutters.'

I flush scarlet at her words, humiliation burning through me at the thought of what she might have seen at any point during those two days I spent with Mercer in his bed. 'You were watching?' I say, cursing the Guildmaster for leaving the shutters open and wondering why he even did it anyway.

Karliah inclines her head, again not needing to answer my question for me. _Of course she would've been watching Mercer's house,_ I think, suspecting that she would have kept eyes on the place from the moment she first came to Windhelm, let alone when I arrived there. _But_ _surely Mercer would've known that_ _?_

'Maybe you're not his whore,' Karliah says before I can say anything or even try to fight the blush warming my cold cheeks. 'Maybe you're more to him that that. The kisses, the way he touches your hair, how he followed you to Windhelm to check up on you...' Her voice tails off, and for the first time, I hear her laugh, but it is a bitter, mocking sound that sends a chill through me. 'To think, before he turned up, I was actually considering asking for your help. Then I saw the pair of you in the alley, and you haven't left his house since he arrived.' Her distaste curls over her voice. 'You even gave up looking for me just so you could give Mercer your full attention. That told me everything I needed to know about who you were, and _what_ you were to him.'

'You don't fucking know anything,' I snap, still burning with furious humiliation, and yet I suddenly feel a strange chilling despair wash over me, the Dunmer's words cutting something deep inside me when I think of what I really am to the Guildmaster, and how little I _want_ to be anything to him, whore or otherwise. _I'm his amusement, his toy to play with as he pleases, and she thinks I actually like it._

Karliah turns away. 'I know enough. And I know it won't be long before your Guildmaster follows us here.'

'He's not my Guildmaster,' I say angrily, not knowing how to convince her that I'm not what she thinks I am, that even if I do not exactly share her murderous vendetta against Mercer Frey, I have no desire to protect his life from her, particularly if it meant my own life was safe in exchange. 'I'm not his whore or anything else. Look, whatever you plan to do, whether you want to kill him like you did Gallus, I'm not going to try to stop you. I know what he's like, and he's-'

'Be silent,' Karliah hisses, and the whispering sound of her unsheathing one of the daggers from her thighs causes the words to die on my tongue. 'I said that I _plan_ to do very little with you, not that I won't,' she tells me, stepping forward until she is standing close on the other side of the fire, pointing the sharp glass tip of her dagger towards me over the flames. 'You best hope Mercer cares more about you than you think. I left your dagger and your hair for him this time, _little bird_. If he doesn't come, I will leave other parts of you on his doorstep until he realises that there will be nothing remaining of his whore unless he gives me what I want.'

I shrink back from her blade and her words, my fear well and truly returned now, no part of me wishing to antagonise her further. _She is armed and I am bound,_ I think, needing no other reminder as to the danger of my position and quickly realising just how stupid I was to risk speaking to her as I did. _And no matter I say, she'll never believe me, even if I told her what Mercer has done to me and how_ _little I care for him_ _._

Suddenly twice as frightened as I was before, I shuffle back away from the brazier and huddle against the edge of the coffin as Karliah sheathes her dagger and returns to search through her satchel. Despite still sitting within the reach of the fire's heat, I no longer feel its warmth, and the deathly chill that lingers in the air seems to settle down my spine.

 _At least I know what's going to happen now,_ I think, my hands struggling against their rope binds as I instinctively try to draw my arms around my body again, desperately needing some form of comfort and yet finding none, knowing that I can only wait in cold silence until whatever end comes for me. _And whoever comes for me_ _._

 

*

 

Time drags by slower than I ever knew possible. Despite Karliah's assertion, Mercer seems to be more than a couple of hours behind us. The violet-eyed thief keeps the fire in the brazier going with the skill of her hands, though she spends little enough time near it herself. She paces the length and breadth of the chamber, vanishing into the shadows that hang heavy beyond the reach of the small fire before reappearing a moment later and retracing her path again, and again, repeatedly until I decide I would rather shut my eyes than watch her. When I close my eyes, I realise Karliah's footsteps are strangely silent on the stone ground.

Exhausted from the ordeal and still feeling both the remnants of the potion that Karliah gave me and the effects of the long cold journey through the snow, I curl up on the hard dusty stone beside the fire, trying and failing to get comfortable as I wonder what the hell I should do.

 _Escaping really isn't an option,_ I realise after only the first hour or so, when I tell the Dunmer that I need to relieve myself and I beg for some fresh air, thinking to somehow steal the horse and get away from the ruin when her back is turned - and for a few foolish moments I let myself believe that the fanciful idea is indeed possible, as Karliah hesitates for only a moment before she pulls off my cloak and leaves it by the fire before cutting my binds away from my wrists and accompanying me to ground level.

Immediately thwarting what plans I had to take the horse, Karliah stands beside the creature in the antechamber, murmuring quiet words into the horse's ears while I linger at the entrance to the ruin, realising that not only is it the deep of night but also that I utterly regret my request for fresh air. When I step out into the pitch black expanse of snow, the wind howls and hail lashes at my face, and it's only a few seconds before I accept the futility of my plan. _Getting the horse is one thing, getting five feet away in this storm is another._

When I return to the ruin and I follow Karliah back down to the main chamber, I put my hands behind my back at her quiet request and I let her rebind me with fresh rope. She lets me drink from the waterskin before she resumes her pacing, and I lie down on the cloak near the fire, shivering and sodden from the brief exposure to the storm. I close my eyes, not wanting to think about what might happen when I next open them, not wanting to think at all.

As the hours pass, I sleep fitfully, slipping only into semi-consciousness for brief moments, my body on edge and tense with the knowledge it cannot rest so near to the woman who intends to kill me. _And it's fucking cold,_ I think, shivering no matter how close to the magical fire I lie; despite having been more than reasonably acquainted with the cold since leaving Riften, my body still refuses to adjust to the viciously low temperature, and I pass the hours desperately trying not to think about the Rift, the air that smells of wood and water, the sunrises and the sunsets over the city, the taste of wine I will never drink again and the half-smiles I will never see again.

When I open my eyes some time later, my heart hurting pathetically, I find that Karliah is no longer pacing. The Dunmer sits on the other side of the fire, with her hood pushed back to reveal a head of dark hair cropped to her shoulders and with her black bow laid on her lap as she adjusts the string. The flickering light from the fire leaves dark shadows under her high cut cheekbones, although the shadows that linger beneath her strange bright violet eyes are darker still and I start to wonder when she last slept. She does not notice me watching her, and I realise that her gaze is not on what her hands are doing; instead, she stares straight ahead down the chamber, a blank expression on her starkly beautiful face that I cannot properly read, and when I follow her line of sight, I realise her eyes are fixed hard and unblinking on the blood stain on the ground, the dark black-red marking just within the fire's light.

I close my eyes and stay very still, not wanting to try to understand the look on her face, finding myself strangely unnerved by the expression in her violet eyes. _Like she wasn't seeing at all,_ I think. When I open my eyes to chance another look a short while later, I find that Karliah has disappeared.

Knowing she will not have left for good and that any thought of escape will be as futile as the last, I close my eyes again, and at some point I must drift off into another exhausted half-sleep, for what feels like only moments later I jerk awake abruptly as a violent cold shiver wracks my body.

As I open my eyes, I notice that the fire has died down to a small flicker, the flames licking weakly at the edges of the brazier, and I realise just how cold I feel. _And how much darker it is now,_ I think, feeling distinctly conscious of my vulnerable position on the floor and my inability to see where Karliah is now. Sore from lying on the hard stone ground and my arms aching fiercely from being bound behind my back for so long, I struggle to my knees and then onto my feet, the effort harder than I expected and making me gasp with the pain as I finally make it to standing.

'Be quiet and don't move,' I hear a quiet voice hiss before I have even gathered my senses, and I quickly turn away from the fire to find Karliah standing only a few feet from me. Hooded once more, with her bow in her hands and her quiver fastened to her back, she takes a step closer to me, and before I can even blink, she nocks a black feathered arrow and draws her bow, her eyes trained on one point in the shadows at the far end of the chamber.

My fear rising abruptly, I look over in the direction of her gaze, although I see nothing through the heavy darkness. For a few long seconds, the only sound I hear is the quiet humming of the fire and the uneasy beating of my heart.

'Stay where you, Mercer,' Karliah says sharply, her sudden words startling me. 'You take one more step and I'll kill you right now.'

A familiar mocking laugh echoes throughout the chamber. I look around desperately for the source, my heart fluttering faster in my chest at the realisation that he is here, but I see nothing but darkness beyond the small glow of the fire.

'Come on, you're surely smarter than that,' Mercer's low voice comes from somewhere in the shadows. 'Do you really think one of your arrows would pierce my heart before my blades cut that little neck of yours?

Karliah doesn't move, her gaze still fixed near the entrance to the chamber. 'Just as arrogant as you always were,' she murmurs. 'I could kill you where you stand, _Guildmaster_.'

Mercer laughs again, the sound close enough to send a shiver of unease down my back. 'Why don't you, then?'

Suddenly from the corner of my eye I see movement in the darkness, and from between two coffins Mercer steps out of the shadows, halfway down the chamber and far closer than where both Karliah and I were looking.

Unexpected relief races through me at the sight of him, far keener than I anticipated, and despite my inclination never to see the Guildmaster again, the sight of a familiar face lifts my hopes sharply after countless long and cold hours of waiting for death in the company of a treacherous murderer.

'Mercer!' I call out desperately, my voice faint with its lack of use and my exhaustion, not wanting to imagine how the Guildmaster will make me repay him for my rescue but quickly deciding that I will pay whatever price to be saved from my fate at Karliah's hands.

However, Mercer's gaze remains fixed hard on Karliah as she swiftly aims her arrow at his heart, and the sound of his name called from my mouth dies as an echo unanswered in the cold chamber as the two stare at each other in silence.

The seconds pass with nothing but the faint sound of the fire to be heard, until Mercer suddenly laughs.

'Kill me where I stand, was that?' he says, the familiar sarcasm dripping in his voice. 'Come on, we both know you can't do it. Getting me all the way here was a waste of time, Karliah.' He steps further out of the shadows, and I see the dim firelight glinting on the pair of golden daggers in his hands. 'Although I admit I like the idea of leaving your corpse in this frozen ruin for sentimental reasons.'

Karliah's arms do not tremble, and her arrow remains trained on Mercer's chest as he takes a few steps towards the fire, slowly closing the gap between him and us. 'It is your corpse that I will leave to rot here,' she says viciously. 'As I should have done five years ago.'

'But you didn't, and you won't this time either.' Mercer's voice is bored, and he stops walking to stand close to the blood stain on the ground. 'We both know that, don't we? So just get on with whatever you've got to say and maybe I'll make your death quick.'

Karliah's face is like stone, and that's when I realise that despite having a clear shot at Mercer, she has yet to let her arrow fly. _She's got him here, with her arrow trained on his heart,_ I think, confused as to why the violet-eyed thief is hesitating to do what she has clearly wanted to do for a long time.

The seconds crawl by until finally the Dunmer speaks, her mouth a hard line and seemingly unwilling to make the words. 'What you do you want for it?' she says quietly.

My confusion only heightens with her question, but Mercer at least seems to know what she is talking about, as he laughs a quick harsh laugh.

'Want for it?' he repeats. 'You think I'm going to just hand it over, do you?'

'If you value your life and the future of the Guild at all, you will,' Karliah says sharply. She tilts her head in my direction. 'If you value her life, you'll hand it over and end this now.'

Mercer's gaze flickers over to me briefly, as if noticing me for the first time – yet he seems unconcerned by Karliah's threat, giving me only a cursory glance before a small smile pulls at his mouth and he looks back at the Dunmer. 'You know, I'm curious why you've let Wren live this long to begin with,' he says, twirling his golden daggers idly in his hands. 'I sent her to cut your throat, after all. Don't tell me you've grown fond of the girl?'

'Not as fond as you,' Karliah says, her voice mocking. 'You know, I never thought I'd see you so attached to a woman that you'd follow her halfway across Skyrim like a dog at heel, Mercer.'

Mercer does not seem to mind her comment, and his smile remains at his mouth as amusement flashes in his eyes. 'I actually followed her like a dog at heel because I had Guild business to deal with,' he says, his tone unusually light. 'Which I was expecting you to have handled for me by now, but it seems I'll have to do it myself.'

Already half-lost with their conversation, I don't have time to determine what Mercer means, as Karliah makes a cold hissing laugh at his words.

'You're a damn fool,' she says. 'The only Guild business you should be concerned with now is saving us all from your sacrilege.'

'Us?' Mercer repeats. 'Karliah, you left the Guild the day you started believing daedra and children's stories were more important than gold.' He inclines his head as he looks across at the Dunmer, the smirk widening at his mouth. 'It's just a shame Gallus thought with his cock rather than his head. The stupid fucking bastard should've put you in your place a long time ago instead of letting you have free rein.'

'Don't speak his name!' Karliah spits viciously, her arms trembling now as she takes a step forward, and I see the fury flashing bright in her violet eyes. 'You son of a bitch, you'll fucking pay for what you did to him.'

'Will I?' Mercer sighs, seemingly unfazed by her ferocity. 'In five years, you've never even got close, have you? All this time, I assumed you'd learnt your lesson and ran as far away from me as you could, but clearly you're not even that smart.' His eyes glimmer and he walks forward to stand on the dark discolouration on the ground, his boots treading over the pool of blood staining the stone. 'Remember when I stabbed him the back?' he says softly, not taking his eyes from Karliah. 'My blade got stuck in his shoulder blades, do you remember? I had to use my other dagger and bury it in his neck three times just to finish him. And you... well, you just stood there and did nothing at all, like you're doing now.' A small smirk pulls at Mercer's mouth. 'His little nightingale was too slow and stupid to save him when he needed her most, wasn't she?'

Only silence meets his words, and icy fingers of unease start to crawl down my back as those same words work their way through me. _Another of his games,_ I think, trying to convince myself, but the fearful fluttering of my heart stops me from believing the thought fully, and I suddenly cannot tell whether I am standing on the safer side of the chamber, or whether there even is such a side.

'Mercer,' I start faintly, some part of me intending to demand the truth from him, but my voice is weak and frightened and neither the Dunmer nor the Guildmaster even seem to hear me speak.

'You will pay,' Karliah whispers, and I realise that her arms are steady once more and she now wears the same expression that she wore when I saw her staring silently at the blood stain. _It's Gallus' blood,_ I realise, although I have no idea who spilled it. 'One day, I will stand over your broken body and make you beg for death.' Karliah takes another step forward, aiming her arrow at his shoulder. 'You're right, though, I need to return the Skeleton Key, and only you can give it to me. But I don't need to kill you for that. Pain is enough to persuade even the most arrogant of men to talk eventually.'

Mercer makes a quiet snort of laughter. 'True, but you know I'm not like most men. You want me to talk? You're going to have to give me something I want in return.' Despite the arrow trained on him, Mercer suddenly sheathes his daggers at his hips, and as he looks at Karliah, the firelight catches the glint in his eyes instead. 'And there is something you can give me.'

'And that is?' the dark elf says immediately, her own eyes unblinking as she stares at the Guildmaster, and I can hear the sudden hope in her voice.

'My little bird, of course,' Mercer says as if it is obvious, and despite my confusion and the uneasy shiver lingering down my spine, my heart flutters in relief that Mercer will free me. 'Let Wren go and I'll tell you where the Key is.'

Karliah seems as surprised as I am. She does not lower her bow, presumably expecting a trap. 'You'll trade the Key for her?'

'I'll trade its location,' Mercer says, and at the Dunmer's still-suspicious silence, he makes a small sigh. 'Look, you were right. I've grown fond of the girl, and besides, the Key's made me enough coin already. Release her and I'll tell you where I keep it hidden. Feel free to do whatever you want with the damn thing.'

Karliah's violet eyes narrow. 'You keep to no oaths,' she says scathingly. 'How can I trust you?'

'You can't,' he answers, folding his arms and looking at her with a flicker of impatience in his eyes. 'But trust that I have far better things to be doing than standing in a fucking cold ruin talking with a Dunmer bitch who prefers to believe in gods rather than gold. If giving you the Key's location makes you shut the fuck up and I can take Wren back to my bed with her body intact, I'll consider it a fair enough deal. So? Do you agree to the terms?'

Karliah hesitates for only a moment longer, before she lowers her bow at last. _She'll do anything for this Key, whatever it is,_ I realise, well aware that if Mercer requested she cut my throat, she would do it in an instant.

'Go,' the Dunmer tells me. 'Return to your Guildmaster.'

I stand still, not taking a step forward, suddenly cautious not only that Karliah may yet shoot me if I move but also that walking to Mercer may not be the smartest decision. _I don't know whether I would be walking to or from danger,_ I think, my nerves freezing me in place and a wave of utter helplessness coming over me in that brief moment as the Guildmaster and the violet-eyed thief look at me, both waiting for me to move.

'Wren,' Mercer says finally, a small smile at his mouth. 'Come here, little bird, and I'll cut you free.'

The promise of having my arms freed from their binds makes my decision for me, and my feet take me clumsily away from the fire and towards Mercer; a strange trepidation rises in my stomach with each step, but I barely have time to consider whether I am walking in the right direction, as when I am still a few paces from him, Mercer moves forward and closes the gap between us.

Without a word, he takes my shoulders and turns me around to face Karliah as he moves up behind me. I feel one of his hands take a hold of the rope around my wrists, but I do not hear the sound of his dagger being drawn to cut my binds.

As he leans in close behind my body, holding me against him, I hear him make a quiet sigh. 'Oh, little bird,' Mercer says softly, and I feel his breath on my skin as his mouth finds my ear. 'Did you actually _miss_ me?'

I feel another shiver crawl down my spine, remembering when I spoke those words to him in the alley and his quiet reply. _My poor little bird. You have no idea, do you?_

'Cut me free,' I say, but my demand comes out of my mouth as little more than a faint plea, and Mercer either does not hear or he chooses to ignore me, and he straightens up to look over my head at the Dunmer.

'After all this time, I wanted to get the measure of you, Karliah,' he says, one hand still holding my bound wrists while the other grips my shoulder, keeping me in place against his body. 'But clearly you're just as much of a fool as you always were. I sent you the only person in the Guild who might've been your ally, and instead of trying to befriend her, you put her in binds.' Mercer laughs a quick harsh laugh. 'I should tell you, though, she rather enjoys that. You would've had to deal with a very wet and frustrated bird if you'd kept her tied up like this for much longer.' His hand moves from my shoulder and runs across my collarbone towards my throat, his fingers running over the collar of my jacket. 'And such a cruel way to treat your loyal accomplice too, after all she's done for you.'

At his words, the unease in my stomach knots tighter, but my sudden instinct to get away from him is dashed before I can even fully consider it, as Mercer's fingers suddenly pull apart the top fastenings of my jacket to expose my throat, and as his fingers trace over my bare neck, I can only stand frozen in fear.

I see a small frown form at Karliah's brow, but the Dunmer apparently does not care to wonder what Mercer means. 'Where is the Key?' she demands, her voice hard as she raises her bow once more. 'I released her, as agreed. Now tell me where it is.'

'Oh, I don't think so,' Mercer says carelessly. 'You've been a nuisance for far too long, Karliah. A useful one, though, I admit. Thanks to you, I was able to blame every lost shipment or screwed up job on this supposed curse that's been plaguing the Guild for five years, and when I learnt you were still alive, well, it made it even easier to cover my tracks. I'll almost be sorry to kill you.'

' _Supposed_ curse?' Karliah repeats before I can even register what Mercer is saying. 'You think this isn't real? Nocturnal will destroy the Guild because of what you have done. Tell me where the Key is and we can stop this before it's too late.'

'But it is already too late, at least for the both of you,' Mercer says, and I feel him release his hold on my binds, although his other hand stays at my throat. 'You were far too easy to play, Karliah. I expect Wren would've been only too willing to hear your sad little tale, and I know the stupid bird would've helped you too, if only you'd thought her worthy enough to trust. If only she wasn't my precious whore.' He laughs again, and suddenly I hear the sound of his dagger slipping from its sheathe behind me, the crisp sound making my nervously beating heart skip even faster as I desperately try to convince myself that he is intending only to cut my binds. 'To be honest, all you really needed to do was lick her cunt a few times and the stupid bitch would've believed anything you told her. Trust me. Now, would you like to kill her for me as I hoped you would, or do I have to do it?'

Before I can even open my mouth, Mercer's hand moves from my neck and he takes a rough handful of my hair, jerking my head backwards as I see a flash of gold in front of my face and I can only gasp in fear as the ice cold blade presses flat against my throat.

My heart thuds vicious and fast, sending fear coursing through my exhausted body, and I can only stand in shock as the Guildmaster holds his dagger to my neck, not comprehending what is happening. _He's done this before,_ I remember, having felt his blade at my throat and lived, and yet I find that thought insubstantial and utterly foolish, suddenly remembering only the pain I have felt at his hands, the threats and cruel words I have received from his mouth, and it dawns on me that Mercer's dagger against my throat is the end of it all. _The end of me._

Karliah does not move an inch, her violet eyes holding Mercer's as I remain helpless in his hold. 'Kill her?' she echoes, her quiet voice distant to my ears beneath the panicked racing of my pulse. 'We had a deal. I returned her, so tell me where the Key is.'

'A deal? Come on, did you really think I'd trade it for a damn woman?' Mercer says with a cold laugh. 'You stupid fucking girl. With the Key, I could buy a thousand little sluts just as pretty and good with their mouths. She means nothing to me, despite what I made you think otherwise.' He adjusts his hold on my hair, his grip tightening enough to make me whimper in pain. 'Look, she has to die here, whether you do it or not,' he tells Karliah. 'If she returns to the Guild, it's going to make things a bit awkward for me, seeing as I told them I'd cut the treacherous whore's throat for what she did.'

'Mercer-' I start, not knowing whether I intend to beg for my life or to demand he release me, but Mercer talks over my feeble voice before I can speak further.

'Such a bad little bird,' he says mockingly to me. 'Conspiring with Karliah to take down the Guild and robbing us blind?' He makes a _tsk_ sound. 'You should've known I'd have to punish you for that. When I opened the vault the day after you ran away to Windhelm and everyone saw it had been cleared out, I was as shocked and furious as they were. I took it on myself to hunt you down and bring you to justice.' He makes a quiet laugh, and I feel him adjust the dagger at my throat so that the sharp blade grazes my skin. 'And you like justice, don't you?'

Comprehension dawning on me painfully, I try to get away, but his fingers knotted in my hair jerk my head back sharply, keeping me in place as I whimper in pain, and I feel my heart skitter in the fear and knowledge that he does not intend to end this as he did the last time he held a blade to my throat. _He's going to kill me, not fuck me,_ I realise, terror paralysing me where I stand, and in that moment my mind races through every second I have spent in Mercer's company and I wonder how I was so stupid not to see how it would end. _I saw,_ I think desperately, recalling every way I have been hurt since I met him. _But I was powerless to do anything, just as I have been powerless all my life._

Desperate instinct suddenly makes me fight against the inevitable one last time, and despite my bound arms, the dagger held to my throat and his rough hold of my hair, I struggle violently to free myself from him, but after a few seconds of my panicked futile efforts, I feel a strange warm trickling down my neck. It is a moment later when suddenly the sharp biting pain registers in me, and I gasp in agony as I realise the pressure of his blade against my throat has already grazed my skin. _It's blood,_ I realise, and the thought shocks every sense in my body, and suddenly I can hear little but the thudding of my heart. _It's my blood._

'Just as eager for death as you were for everything else I gave you,' Mercer says with a quiet laugh, moving a little to the side and leaning his head down to mine, his mouth against my ear once more, although I still barely hear him over the panicking thudding of my blood in my ears. 'All right, little bird, you know I always oblige you. Let me open it up wider.'

Dimly, I hear Karliah's voice, and then the sound of an arrow cutting through the cold air towards us, but I only close my eyes and think of home, of my mother and father, of the waterfall and the warm autumn forests, and all my senses seem to diminish to nothing in that brief fragile moment. _Astrid told me they were better dead, and so will I be._

The moment ends Mercer pulls me sharply in front of the arrow's path instead of cutting my throat. The arrow pierces my shoulder, jolting me from whatever brief peace my mind had found, and I hear Karliah's curse echo throughout the chamber, although in my shock I cannot understand why. When I look down and register the arrow sticking out of my shoulder, all my senses return to me in a fierce rush and I scream in agony as pain flares white-hot through my body.

My legs give way beneath me at the same time as Mercer releases me and shoves me aside. I collapse down to the ground, landing painfully on my knees before falling sideways, my injured shoulder hitting the stone ground hard enough to make me shriek in pain again. My bound arms useless to protect my body or help move myself at all, I lie immobile and gasping with pain as I hear the sounds of Mercer's laughter and another arrow cutting through the air.

'Try again,' Mercer calls out to Karliah, although from where I lie on the ground I can see neither of them, my vision limited to the nearby coffin and the pool of Gallus' blood that I suddenly realise I am lying beside. 'Maybe in another five years you'll hit your target.'

Distantly, the searing pain in my shoulder distracting my other senses, I hear another arrow fly over my head, but it only clatters to the ground somewhere in the chamber a moment later. Karliah's hissed words, unintelligible to my ears, seem to make the shadows dance around me, and as I hear another echo of Mercer's harsh laugh, I try to move my body to get out of further harm's way. Hindered by both my binds and my injuries, I find it difficult to move even an inch, and as I struggle, I realise that the agony in my shoulder seems to be diminishing, as is the soreness in my knees and side from my fall to the ground.

 _But the feeling in my fingers is also disappearing,_ I think, and whatever relief I felt at the fading pain vanishes when I realise I cannot move my hands behind my back, and the binds are the least of the reason why. When I try to move my toes, I find that my feet do not respond to my command, and as I try to stretch out my legs, I feel a strange tingling pain wash through my limbs before they too refuse to co-operate – and with a jolt of understanding, I realise that it is not the cold or fear or pain that has numbed me to the point of immobility.

'Karliah!' I cry out in fear and anger and desperate pleading, afraid of the poison she must have used on her arrow, but as I open my mouth to call out again, I can only moan as another wave of needling pain courses through me and I realise that every inch of my body is suddenly freezing cold.

Desperately I try to shuffle forward or roll to the side but I find my numb body completely unresponsive. Before I can even think what to do, the fire suddenly extinguishes and the whole chamber falls into utter darkness.

Fear jolts through me, and as I try to adjust to the lack of light, somewhere in the cavern I hear a quiet whispering sound and a strange noise I cannot place, almost like a fluttering of wings, or the desperate beating of a heart.

'Your Nightingale tricks won't hide you forever,' Mercer says suddenly, his voice echoing loudly in the chamber from somewhere behind me, making my own heart jump. 'When you remove that cloak, I'll be waiting, you little bitch.'

The whispering noise seems to retreat into the darkness, and a moment later, the silence falls heavy and cold.

I lie frozen and senseless on the ground, waiting in the utter darkness, but what must be minutes pass and I hear no sound of either Mercer or Karliah. _I am alone,_ I realise, a strange feeling of unease and relief settling in my immobile body _._ _They're gone, but I'm no less at their mercy._  I try one last time to move my body, but my efforts are as futile as I feared, and I realise I am going nowhere without someone's help. _And there's no one here to help me, even if I could part my lips to beg._

I lie and wait in the pitch darkness, hearing nothing but my heart beating. _It has to wear off eventually,_ I think, although it dawns on me that I have no reason to presume that this paralysis is only temporary. _And if the rest of me stops working, won't my heart soon stop too?_

My mind is still trying to process the reality of what is happening when suddenly I find myself rolled over and laid flat on my back on the ground, my heart jolting hard with fear, my dull senses having heard or felt nothing to suggest someone was near. _And my sight isn't much better than the rest of me._ Through the darkness, I can see little beyond a shadowy figure leaning over me, but it is only a moment later that I discover who has come to me.

'We don't have long left, little bird,' Mercer says softly, his voice making my heart clench in terror. 'Karliah's fled, but she won't have gone far. And not far enough to escape me.'

My pulse thuds desperately when I see the shadowy shape of his hand moving towards my head, but I hear only the soft sound of my hair moving, as he gently brushes a few curls back from my face.

'I'll catch her and I will kill her, just as I killed Gallus,' he tells me softly. 'Just as I am going to kill you. My little bird and his little nightingale, I thought it would be fitting for the pair of you to die together. What is it they say about two birds and one stone?'

I stare up at him unblinkingly, desperately trying to adjust my sight to the darkness, although part of me is glad for the shadows. _I will not have to see his face one last time before I die._

'I'm glad we got to spend these few days together,' Mercer says, and though I cannot see it, I hear the smirk in his voice. 'I'll remember them, little bird. I really will. But you've served your purpose now.' He pauses, and through the shadows I see him incline his head as he looks over my prone body. 'Although maybe you want to serve it one last time before you die?'

Unable to protest, let alone physically defend myself, I can only lie numb and senseless as through the shadows I watch Mercer pull my unresponsive legs apart and climb on top of me. I try my hardest to make my body move, willing every inch of me to obey my command to get away and to stop him, but no part of me responds and I can only listen to the sound of his fingers ripping apart the fastenings of my trousers and pulling the material away from my skin.

Seconds pass as I lie there, unseeing and unfeeling, wishing the paralysis had spread to my heart already so that I would also be unknowing.

It is a few moments later that I hear a quiet laugh. 'No, you're right,' the Guildmaster murmurs. 'I prefer it when you can at least pretend to struggle and not want it. That little game is amusing, whereas this...' His words tail off, and I do not need to see him through the darkness to recognise the smile in his voice. 'Well, you're almost dead now, aren't you? At least, you will be soon. Besides, where's the fun in playing with you if you can't even feel what I'm doing?'

I can only stare up at him silently, my eyes starting to water from being unable to blink and my vision beginning to blur. When I hear the familiar sound of a dagger being drawn from a sheathe, something catches painfully in my heart, but it is not only my fear that makes my chest suddenly feel tight. _I know that sound._

'Don't you like the irony?' Mercer says, leaning down closer to hold the Blade of Justice before my eyes, making sure that I can see it through the darkness. 'Astrid gave you this dagger and she has no idea who you even are. The Brotherhood kill so many, they don't care about the families of their victims. Where they only value blood, I know the value of information.' He pauses as shock races through me with his words, my heart thudding unevenly, the only part of me that can still react. 'The Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary is in Falkreath, by the way. Just south of the city, below the road in the grey pine forest. I want you to die with that knowledge, Wren, knowing that you failed in your little quest to avenge your parents.'

Despite my paralysed expression, some shock must show in my eyes that Mercer notices through the darkness, and I hear him make a quiet snort of laughter.

'You thought I didn't know?' he says. 'Even now, do you think I have the title _Guildmaster_ for nothing? I wasn't about to let some fucking slut into my Guild without knowing everything about her first. Planning to kill the Dark Brotherhood leader for orphaning you all those years ago was ambitious. Far too ambitious for a stupid little whore like you.' He laughs a cold laugh. 'And you've failed, just like Karliah. You failed. I want that to be your last thought, little bird. Your very last thought.'

He leans down and brings the Blade of Justice to my neck, looking down at me for a moment through the darkness, and I realise how relieved I am for my weak eyes and the shadows that hide his expression from me.  _I don't want to see his satisfaction in what he is about to do._

A few moments pass in silence before Mercer runs the dagger across my throat in a smooth clean cut.

I do not feel the edge of the Blade as it slices my skin, nor do I feel my skin parting beneath the metal; I see nothing of the wound itself, only Mercer's shadowy figure as he looks down at me, watching. _I heard something though,_ I think, panic starting to rise in me, wondering if the soft tearing sound was only a whisper in my imagination. For a few moments, I convince myself that this is only one of his games, that he has not really cut my throat and that he is only trying to frighten me, but a moment later I hear the wetness of the dagger as Mercer slips the Blade of Justice back into its sheathe.

'It'll take time,' Mercer tells me lightly as he climbs off my prone body. 'Maybe Karliah's poison will stop your heart before you bleed out. Maybe you'll bleed out first. I'd stay and watch you die but I need to find the Dunmer bitch and get back to the Guild.' I hear one last quiet laugh from the Guildmaster. 'But maybe you want to watch, though.'

Mercer easily hauls my body into a sitting position and leans me up against the nearby coffin before tilting my head down, ensuring that my unblinking gaze is on my own body. Through the darkness and my blurred vision, I can only see the vague form of my chest and legs, but it's only a few seconds later that I notice a darker shadow spreading downwards over my jacket, like tendrils snaking from somewhere beneath my chin. _A trick of my mind,_ I think, until suddenly my sense of smell heightens, and my nose fills with the raw scent of open flesh and the metallic tang of blood.

 _It's my blood._ _It's my flesh._

My mind has barely processed that terrible realisation when I hear Mercer's voice in my ear.

'Remember what I said, little bird,' he says softly, the familiar satisfaction lingering in his quiet words. 'You failed.'

Silence meets my ears then, and although I cannot feel or see him, I assume that he has left me to die. _But for all I know, he could be kissing my hair right now, as he did when I was stupid enough to let him._

'And don't worry,' Mercer murmurs a second later, making my fragile heart skip a beat with his closeness. 'I'll be sure to give Brynjolf your regards.'

Silence falls again, deafening this time, until I suddenly grow conscious of the quiet dripping of my blood on the stone beside me. As the seconds pass with nothing but the faint dripping sound, I realise that Mercer has gone for good. _And left me to die._

In the heavy darkness and propped up against the coffin, I can only sit and watch the shadow spreading down my front, my eyes unblinking and unable to turn away from the blurred sight of my blood dripping down my chest as it flows lazily from my neck, seemingly slowed by the poison inside me.

 _My heart's slowed too,_ I realise, feeling my pulse growing lethargic and knowing that it will not be very long before this ends. Although I know it should frighten me, the realisation seems dull and distant to my mind, as if it can scarcely comprehend what it is going to happen.  _At least I am not going to feel any pain._

Despite that truth, the bitter hollowness inside my stomach is keen enough to make me wish for physical agony. _He's right, I did fail,_ I think, the thought cutting me in a way the Blade of Justice did not, bleeding some fragile thing inside my heart when I think of how I have never repaid Astrid in kind for the lives she stole from me. Not wanting to succumb to Mercer Frey's wish for my last thought to be of my failure, I try to remind myself that at least Astrid never claimed my life too, but my desperate attempts to console my troubled mind for these last fragile moments fail just as surely as I did in my doomed quest. _I failed._

I try to force myself to think of home once again, as I did when Mercer held the dagger to my throat and spilled the first drops of my blood, but the memory of the waterfall and the forests slip through my mind, and I can no sooner conjure the image of my parents' faces than I can recall the feeling of warm sunlight on my cold numb skin.

 _Then nothing,_ I think, forcing my mind to empty and willingly letting my vision blur, finding some comfort in knowledge that at least there will be no pain, that nothing will ever hurt again. _Oblivion. This is what I wanted._

Soon, the darkness seems to press in closer, clouding my vision in shadow until the vague sight of my body and my blood fades into nothing, and whatever my last thoughts are, they simply disappear from my mind, lost, like water falling through grasping hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing that last section kind of took everything out of me, so I can't think of much to say here this time except thank you sincerely for your lovely comments and for taking the time to read this <3  
> PS. Please forgive any errors, I'm tired.  
> PPS. I genuinely did not even mean to write another double length chapter but hello 13k words.


	21. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I was ill all last week and felt half-dead. Maybe I'm a Wren symbiotic. Now we are both alive again, hopefully for the foreseeable future <3

_'I want an excuse to buy you a castle.'_

_Her smiling eyes are bright in the warm firelight as she laughs. 'What are we ever going to do with a castle?' she says. 'We have what we need, besides a sturdy roof.'_

_Father leans in close to lay a light kiss on her cheek. 'Then the castle will have the sturdiest of roofs, my love.'_

_My mind wanders from their conversation as I play by the fire, imagining the jewels I will have and dreaming of a silver tiara and a dress made of the finest silks._

_A sudden knock at the door startles me from my thoughts of emeralds and sapphires. When I turn my head, I realise that the fire is dying low._

_'Don't answer it,' I say, knowing who is knocking and what they want, but the words leave my cold frozen lips as little more than a whisper, and my parents do not hear me. 'Please, don't answer it,' I try again, watching helpless as my father gives his wife another kiss before he stands and walks to the door._

_I try to stand up too, wanting to stop him, wanting to lock it tightly or to answer the door myself if it must be opened, but my body seems to refuse my commands and I can only sit in paralysed and numb as Father pulls open the door._

_The sound of the howling wind almost deafens me, rain splattering the doorstep heavy and wet while thunder crashes louder than the waterfall in the distance. There is no one standing in the threshold, and I realis the knocking was only the sound of the storm hammering the door._

_Relief warms my numb body and the world seems quieter for a moment, the rain receding to only a faint rushing sound._

_'We won't hear half this damn noise when we're tucked away deep inside a castle,' Father says lightly, closing the door and drawing the lock across before turning back to Mother. 'Thick stone walls, windows made of the finest glass. Am I not winning you around to the idea, my love?'_

_'Castles are cold,' she points out, a sparkle in her eyes that even the dying firelight seems to catch. 'How do you intend to keep me warm?'_

_My father laughs as he closes the gap between them, taking her hands and gently pulling her up from her chair. 'Oh, I have some ideas,' he murmurs before his mouth presses against hers._

_I hear a sharp snap behind me and I jump in fright, thinking the illusion has ended, that I have to go back to the void now, but when I turn my head, I realise it is only the crackle of the fire, still dying, the embers smoking as the blackened logs start to crumble._

_A chill passes through me and I look away. My parents are entwined, holding each other close. She pulls off his shirt and runs her hands down his chest, kissing his neck as he loosens her hair from its pins, his fingers teasing the light brown curls gently._

_He murmurs something in her ear, his mouth smiling, but the sudden rushing in my ears drowns out the words._

_A shadow moves in the corner of my vision, near the window, and the hiss of a dagger being drawn sends a shiver down my back._

_It happens quickly. He tries to get in front of her, the husband moving between the blade and his wife, but the shadow tears him once across the stomach, and as he stumbles in agony with howl that echoes in my heart, a gloved hand grabs his hair and wrenches back his head, exposing his neck to the dagger._

_Mother screams as his blood sprays, but she does not scream for long. Her blood splatters the floor harder than the rain on the doorstep._

_I watch in silence. The shadow tosses a flower down on my mother and my father before stepping over the two bodies and moving to stand before the third, me, the last corpse in the room._

_'They're dead, little girl,' he says. 'They're better that way.' He toys with the small dagger in his hand, the dark metal catching the dying light, the blade dripping with blood. 'And so are you.'_

_The shadow laughs a soft laugh and the fire crackles one last time before it dies, throwing the room into darkness. Silence falls deathly and absolute, until I hear once again the shadow's quiet laugh._

_'Back to the void, then. Sithis is waiting.' Blind by the darkness, I do not have to see the shadow to hear the smirk in his voice. 'As am I.'_

_The darkness presses in hard and opens wide, swallowing everything until I too am naught but shadow and blood, a ghost with sight but nothing else, a shadow with bitter memory and nothing else._

_The illusion ends a moment later, and the darkness retreats and the fire comes back to life, filling the room with light._

_'I want an excuse to buy you a castle,' Father says, clothed and smiling, where he was before, in his chair beside his wife._

_She laughs brightly, her eyes sparkling. 'What are we ever going to do with a castle? We have what we need, besides a sturdy roof.'_

_A_ _s my father leans in to kiss her cheek, I close my eyes_ _tightly and beg my senses into numbness,_ _not wanting to hear or feel or see it again, even as I know that I cannot escape it and that I am as bound to my fate as they are, as dead as they are, as lost_ _in the shadows_ _as they are._

 

As I close my eyes in the void, I feel the warmth of the fire emanating over my cold stiff body and I squeeze my eyes tighter, not wanting to hear their voices or their screams. _When I open my eyes, I will have to relive it again, and again,_ I think with despair, wishing that death had been what I thought it would be, that I would slip into a mindless oblivion where there truly would be nothing. _The void is cruel, and it hurts just as much as being alive._

I catch the lingering scent of blood and opened flesh in the air, forcing me to remember that I am one of three corpses. _But I haven't heard their screams yet,_ I realise suddenly, and with a flicker of hope, I wonder if perhaps the memory will be kinder this time. _Maybe they will not die._ _Maybe this time it does not have to end in blood._

Tentatively, almost reluctantly, as if I already know what I will find, I open my eyes to discover that I am lying on the stone ground in a dark chamber, with a soft fur cloak beneath me and a deep red fire burning bright in a brazier in front of me. _Another vision,_ I think, wondering what twisted lesson I am to learn from the void this time, what other memory I will have to relive over and over again. _And I_ _am sure_ _that this one ends in death too._

I notice a shadowy figure kneeling just within the reach of the firelight, turned away from both the light and me. My heart skips a beat in surprise before I realise the impossibility of that very notion. _I shouldn't have a working heart._

'I'm sorry,' a woman's voice says, not to me, not to anyone, soft and sad and fragile. 'Gods, I wish you were here.'

Even at a whisper that fades quickly into the shadows, the voice is familiar to me.

'Mother?' I whimper, suddenly more afraid than I ever have been, some part of me already knowing that it is not her, some broken terrible part of me already knowing exactly what this is and where I am.

The figure turns its head to look at me, and I stare back at a woman with sea-grey skin, her violet eyes neither sparkling or laughing like my mother's.

'Wren,' she says, rising to her feet abruptly, standing taller than my mother and dressed in worn patched armour. Her voice is clearer now, evidently meant for me this time. 'It's all right. Stay still.'

 _This isn't a vision,_ I realise as the woman approaches. _In the void, in death, no one can hear me. And they don't call me Wren._

I stay frozen lying on the furs, paralysed by my own uncertainty, as the woman drops to her knees beside me and I catch sight of her face, angular and anguished and beautiful even in the dancing firelight. Her purple eyes scan my face and my neck quickly, a flicker of relief cutting through her concerned expression and lightening her strange violet irises.

 _Karliah._ The name whispers in my mind, truer than the name she spoke to me. _But if it's Karliah, I really am dead. Or I soon will be._

'Are you... real?' I say haltingly, uncertain which answer I would prefer to hear.

Karliah looks at me steadily, her gaze not leaving mine. 'Yes,' she says. 'You're safe. Mercer's gone.'

With her words, a sickening ripple of fear cuts through my stomach and suddenly my mind is painfully clear. _And I remember exactly what he did and what I should be._

Panic jolts into my heart as I scramble to sit upright and look around the chamber, scouring the shadows for any sight of Mercer with my dagger ready to cut my throat again - but as I turn my head, a searing pain flares violently in my neck, making me gasp loudly in both agony and shock. _It hurts, and it's real,_ I think, knowing I cannot fool myself that this is some trick of my mind.

'Easy,' Karliah says as my hands fly up towards my throat, her own hands going to my shoulders and holding my arms down before I can reach up to clutch at my neck. 'You'll open it up again.'

 _Let me open it up wider,_ Mercer's voice murmurs in my ear and my heart clenches painfully in terror.

'Please-' I start, struggling against Karliah's hold despite the burning pain coursing from my neck and the feebleness of my body, my instinct to get away stronger and more desperate than any inclination I might have to hear her explain or try to reassure me.

'I said take it easy,' Karliah says, her voice harder, gripping my shoulders with more strength than I expected from her slender form, before I remember that this is the woman who smuggled me unconscious out of Windhelm and is more than capable of physically overcoming me. 'I won't keep healing you if you rip open the wound every time you move, so just stay still for a few minutes.' Her violet eyes hold mine as her fingers dig tight into my shoulders. 'Please,' she murmurs.

The short quiet word stuns me as surely as her arrow did when last I saw her, and as I meet her eyes, something whispers in my mind that it is not Karliah who I should be fearing. _And I realised that truth too late,_ I think, before my mind races ahead to what other truths I learnt from Mercer. _And all too late._

A bitter knot forms in my stomach and I stop struggling against the Dunmer's hold, well aware that I am too weak to fight against her. _And she's the only one who can tell me what's real._

'He cut my throat,' I whisper, feeling the pain still throbbing in my neck, remembering the sound of the dripping blood and the smell of exposed flesh.

'Not well enough,' Karliah answers bluntly. 'The wound was severe but the poison slowed your blood, enough that I could still heal you by the time I could get to you.' Her gaze flickers down my body. 'Had Mercer stayed a few minutes more, maybe we wouldn't be having this conversation.'

I follow her gaze, and the sight of the dark red stain over my jacket and trousers makes my heart falter for a moment before I look back up at Karliah quickly, not wanting to see it, my mind glossing over what might have happened had Mercer made me serve my purpose one last time.

'Why?' I ask faintly, not sure which question I am asking, only wanting her to give me some answer that I can cling to and some way of putting my mind to rest.

Karliah seems to understand. 'I ask myself _why_ more times than I can count,' she murmurs as she releases my shoulders. 'But in the end, it matters little why. It only matters what can be done about it, and what must be done.' She surveys my face for several seconds, a frown pulling at her brow as she deliberates some thought in her mind. 'Are you loyal to the Guild?'

The sudden question catches me off-guard. 'The Guild?' I echo, barely remembering the place, recalling only the times I spent there in Mercer's company and feeling the cold fingers of fear crawl down my back at my memories. _Fear, and fury,_ I think, conscious of a feeble flicker of anger somewhere beneath my fear, but I know that the feeling is directed towards myself and my own stupidity more than at Mercer. _Some part of me actually thought that_ _the Guild_ _was home, that I might be safe there,_ I realise, wondering how I could have been so fooled to think that I might be safe anywhere. _And I should've remembered that whatever childlike fantasies I had of home were destroyed the day I found my family dead on the floor._

'Mercer's corruption will destroy everything,' Karliah says as my heart hardens. 'The Guild and everyone in it will suffer at his hands if he isn't stopped. So answer me, Wren. Are you loyal to the Guild? Will you do what it takes to make it right?'

I open my mouth and close it, my mind barely capable of processing what has happened and what Mercer revealed, let alone capable of finding an answer to what Karliah is asking. _Am I even part of the Guild anymore?_ The thought hurts almost as much as the dull throbbing ache in my neck, and with the Guild in my mind, I suddenly think of Sapphire and Rune, whether they will believe the lies Mercer will have told them, whether they accepted my betrayal and supported Mercer's decision to hunt me down and kill me. _I joked to Sapphire that I'd steal from the Guild if the prize was valuable enough,_ I remember with an uncomfortable lurch in my stomach, wondering just how far she would truly believe it of me, knowing well enough that Mercer would make his lies convincing even to the most untrusting of people. _I know some part of her will doubt me._ _She trusts people as little as I do._

The knot in my stomach suddenly twists tighter. _Will Brynjolf believe_ _I am a traitor_ _?_ I wonder for a brief moment until I force myself to remember what it was like in the void, where I had to relive all the things that hurt me, and I realise just how badly I will hurt if I ever have to face the thought of the auburn-haired thief believing in my betrayal. _And if I_ _ever_ _go back to Riften, I'll be hurt_ _again_ _, one way or another._

'You heard what Mercer said,' I answer finally, my voice as hard as my heart. 'They think I'm a traitor. Why should I even care what happens to the Guild or any of the-'

'They've thought me a traitor for five years,' Karliah cuts over me, her voice as blunt as mine. 'Either you want to make it right or you don't. It doesn't matter what they've been led to believe.' She grabs my shoulders again, holding me in place and stopping me from looking away. 'Don't you want to make Mercer pay?' she says. 'Don't you want to see justice done?'

I stare back at her, knowing the answer I want to give, the answer I wish I was strong enough to give. _Justice is all I want, but I barely believe in it anymore._ 'He tried to kill me,' I say, hating how weak my voice sounds. 'He'll do it again.'

'Not if I have anything to say about it.' The violet-eyed thief looks at me unblinkingly, her expression fierce. 'I'll protect you, Wren. As I should have done from the start.' Her voice turns bitter. 'He was right. You could've helped me but I let him fool me into thinking you were his whore and worth little more than bait to lure him here. I didn't even-' She stops herself, her obvious regret edging her words before she takes a breath and her voice returns to its usual pitch. 'Look, I'm not asking you to get your throat cut again. I will deal with Mercer myself, but I need your help to get the Guild on my side. If I go there alone, they'll kill me on sight.'

'And they won't kill me?' I say coldly. 'Mercer's told them we've been working together to destroy the Guild.'

'I know what he will have told them,' Karliah says, her jaw set. 'But we have to convince them of the truth, and your word with mine might make all the difference.' She hesitates over her words. 'Help me make this right, Wren.'

I draw my arms around my body instinctively, but it brings me little comfort, and I feel only a frightened fluttering of my heart as my hands brush over the stiff dried blood on my clothes. _My Guild armour,_ I correct myself bitterly, knowing that I no longer belong in either the Guild or its armour, and as I look at Karliah, I realise that she still wears the same armour too. _She's kept it after all this time,_ I think, the Dunmer's jacket and trousers frayed and patched yet unmistakeably the same as mine. _But hers hasn't been drenched with her own blood,_ I remind myself, before I realise that the only difference between us is that I was the one stupid enough to offer my throat and every other part of me to Mercer Frey.

'Help you?' I repeat, my sudden fear making my words colder than I intend. 'The last time I saw you, you had me in binds and shot an arrow at me.'

Karliah's eyes darken with some bitter emotion, but whether it is regret or anger or guilt I cannot tell. _Or humiliation, for missing her mark._ 'That was a mistake,' she says through tightly pressed lips. 'But that mistake saved your life.'

'My life wouldn't have needed saving if you hadn't taken me prisoner in the first place,' I snap, wanting to blame her rather than myself.

'If you really believe that, you're as much of a fool as I am,' she replies just as shortly. 'I might have played into his hands, but you were already there. It was only a matter of time.'

Her words bite at me, reminding me of the painful truth, and then everything else Karliah has said suddenly becomes all too clear. _My word with hers might make all the difference, or it might get my throat slit_ _open_ _again._ 'You were going to kill me,' I say icily. 'Mercer tried to kill me. I may be a fool now, but I would be twice as stupid to even consider having anything to do with the Guild or you ever again.'

At my words, a flurry of expressions passes over Karliah's face too quickly for me to comprehend each one, but I recognise the disappointment clearly enough.

She releases my shoulders. 'I suppose I've no right to ask it of you,' she says. 'You don't trust me, just as I didn't trust you. I can't blame you for that.' Her mouth becomes a hard line. 'And I don't blame you for that. This is Mercer's doing. Why should anyone else have to suffer for what he has done?' Before I can even think to offer an answer, Karliah makes a soft laugh, and the bitter sadness in the sound catches something in my heart, stopping me from finding any words to answer her. 'There's another senseless question asking _why_ ,' she murmurs, turning her head away from me, her gaze landing on the dark stain which I know to be Gallus' blood.

 _And mine,_ I realise with a jolt, noticing the fresh scarlet colouring on the stone near the coffin Mercer propped me up against, my blood a small bright pool and smeared in a few places where the violet-eyed thief presumably dragged me over to the fire. _But_ _despite the blood stains,_ _I'm_ _still_ _alive, and I know that_ _regardless of_ _what she says, Karliah is asking herself why I survived Mercer and Gallus did not._

I hold my breath, until the weight of Karliah's silence becomes too much to bear. 'So what now?' I ask eventually.

The Dunmer turns back to me, her expression rearranged into an impassive mask, as if she no longer sees the point in showing the truth of her emotions to me. 'There's another storm coming. We need to be south of Windhelm when it hits.' She stands up abruptly. 'After then, I guess we're both on our own.'

She holds out her hand, and I surprise myself when I do not hesitate to take it. Karliah helps me to my feet as gently as she can, but I still gasp as pain twinges in my neck from the movement and I have to clutch tight at the Dunmer as the chamber seems to spin around me, my body weakened from being paralysed on the ground and unconscious for so long. _How long exactly?_ I wonder, forcing myself to find my balance and stay standing upright, my blurring vision settling as Karliah releases me and reaches into a pocket of her jacket.

'I don't have anything for the pain,' she says as she pulls out a small crystal vial. 'He took the supplies I had in my satchel. But this will help with the cold at least.' At my hesitation, my mouth and stomach recalling well enough the sour taste of the last potion she gave me, Karliah unscrews the lid and holds out the vial. 'I promise I haven't mixed it with anything else. It won't taste like the last one.'

Surprising myself for the second time, I take the small glass bottle from Karliah and cautiously bring it to my mouth, relieved to find that the potion within is at least odourless. When I tip the cold liquid into my mouth, the taste is indeed not as unpleasant as the potion she gave me when she first captured me, but a faint sourness lingers on my tongue, as if the concoction has curdled - and yet I have little time to even care about the taste, for as I swallow it, the pain in my neck returns sharply with the effort and I choke, almost bringing the potion back up all over Karliah.

'It'll get easier,' she says as I splutter and force myself to swallow. 'I did what I could with the wound, but I'm no healer and it'll take time to mend fully. Just relax and try ignore the pain.'

 _It's no worse than when Mercer would make use of my throat,_ I think, remembering how it felt, before I decide I'd rather never think of how willingly I opened my mouth and legs for him. _I'm never going to see him again, let alone do any of those things again._

'Whatever you are, you're no alchemist,' I mutter, holding the empty vial back out to Karliah, a strange ashy after-taste lingering in my mouth from the potion.

Her expression seems to lighten for one strange brief moment when I think she might be about to smile, but the look is gone before I can even believe I almost saw it. 'You're not the first person to tell me that,' she murmurs, returning the vial to her pocket before reaching down to pick up the fur cloak from the ground. 'But you'll thank me when you get outside. Put this on, Wren.'

I need no encouragement to do as she says, and I wrap myself snugly in the cloak, pulling the hood of my jacket over my head as Karliah turns away and picks up her bow and quiver from the nearby coffin. As she readies herself, my hands slip down to my thighs briefly, feeling the empty space where my daggers should be and remembering who has them - and why I should feel so bitterly hollow by their absence. _They're just daggers and I'll steal others to replace them,_ I remind myself, but I know my heart will regret the loss of Rune's gift and the Blade of Justice for a long time yet. _Now_ _I'll never see Rune again, a_ _nd_ _despite knowing at last where I can find Astrid, the Blade only tore open my throat instead of hers._

I draw my arms around my body beneath the cloak, my mind reeling as I try to focus on the present, knowing I can do little about the troubles of my mind at this moment. I watch as Karliah swallows the potion from another small vial before she sets off back through the chamber. I follow, slowing my own step as the dark elf's feet hesitate momentarily beside the stain on the ground where Gallus died. Her back to me, I do not see the expression on Karliah's face, and she does not say a word as she swiftly steps around the blood and continues walking a moment later, although I start to wonder if her mind is filled with the same questions as mine. _Did Mercer leave Gallus' body in one of these coffins, or did he drag him out into the snow?_ I wonder, not wanting to ask her, not knowing if she ever came back here after it happened or if she was too afraid of what she might find.

The scent of death hangs heavier in the air when we reach the antechamber, my legs shaking a little from the effort of climbing the steep steps. My eyes adjust all too quickly to the shadows here, and I cannot ignore how the faint light filtering in from outside lands upon the shadowy hulking corpse of Karliah's horse. My feet falter at the sight the creature's dead body and the vast pool of blood frozen in the entranceway of the ruin, but Karliah pointedly looks away, seemingly unaffected, before I realise she must have already been up here to discover Mercer's handiwork while I was unconscious. As I follow her to the archway, trying to keep my footing on the wide wash of icy blood, I am hit by the reality of the situation. _We're walking, then._

'This won't be easy,' Karliah tells me, despite having already arrived at that conclusion myself. 'It's a long way. Is that potion working yet?'

'I don't feel much of the cold,' I answer, although the discomforting shiver of unease just from being in this place still seems to linger down my spine and I decide I'd rather be out in the freezing snow than spend another minute in the ruin.

'Best hope it stays that way,' Karliah says shortly, as she steps out into the bright expanse of snow.

I follow her, pulling my hood lower over my head to shield me from the light as well as the steadily falling snow. My heart drops as I look around, the sight of the empty endless landscape reminding me just how far we have to go. _And then where will I have to go?_ I wonder, before I remind myself that simply leaving this place alive is a feat, and that any thoughts about what comes next will have to wait _._

Karliah turns back to look at me. 'Stay close, and don't stop walking. Maybe we'll get to Windhelm before nightfall.' She glances over my head to the horizon behind me. 'And before the storm.'

She sets off into the snow; before I follow her, I dare a glance back, finding the sky inked with dark clouds at the far horizon. I turn away from the undeniable threat of a mounting storm and walk forward, following in the Dunmer's path, trying not to wonder how long the effects of her warming potion will last and whether my legs are strong enough to outrun the storm.

Although I mercifully feel little of the cold and the way is largely downhill, the journey back to Windhelm is long and brutally exhausting, and after only a short while my weary and weak body begins to struggle. Time loses meaning quicker than it did when we made the journey here, and as I follow in Karliah's wake through the snow for what must be hours, I soon focus simply on putting one foot in front of the other. _Walk, and breathe,_ I think, as my exhaustion drags my limbs to the ground and my hunger gnaws at my insides. _When did I even last eat?_ I wonder, before the thought only makes me feel worse and I do my best not to imagine the taste of warm bread or wine. Resigned to fill my empty stomach with what I can, I pause frequently to catch my breath and to gather a handful of snow into my palms, but the snow melts through my fingers quicker than I can truly satisfy my thirst.

Karliah seems to move far easier through the treacherous terrain, her feet light and quick over the snowdrifts whereas I stumble into their wet depths more than once. Despite not feeling the cold, I seem to feel everything else twice as keenly, as the wetness of the snow seeps through my clothing and the bitter winds that race ahead of the storm whip at my body. Although each passing hour seems to bring little change to the bleak and vacant landscape, I grow conscious of the sky steadily darkening, and the heavy clouds seem closer every time I glance behind me.

 _At least the ruin is far out of sight now,_ I think as we continue on in silence, although I find that the memory of what happened at Snow Veil Sanctum does not disappear from my mind quite so easily, and as I force myself to just keep walking forward, my thoughts circle endlessly around what happened in that dark cold chamber. _And the lessons I have learnt,_ I think, unable to stop my mind from relieving each word Mercer spoke to me through the shadows before I slipped into oblivion.

 _Mercer might have taken the Blade of Justice, but he gave me Astrid,_ I think, the knot in my stomach tightening once again with the thought of that last lesson from the Guildmaster - but this time, the bitter pain seems to fade as a curious calmness settles inside me and my heart almost slows its pace despite the physical exertion of my weary body. _I'm alive. And that means I have not failed yet._

The realisation of what I must do hits me then and suddenly my way forward becomes clearer to me than the path through the snow. _It's just_ _ironic_ _that_ _my way_ _forward_ _is only accessible to me now_ _,_ _when I have_ _no weapons or coin or anything_ _beyond_ _the_ _blood-stained clothes on my_ _back_ _._ By the time I spy the towering grey walls of Windhelm looming far in the distance, my heart and mind are set hard on the task ahead of me and I barely feel my exhausted relief at the sight of the city, thinking only of what must be done. _I've known death. As terrible as it was, nothing will be as painful as returning to the void without at least attempting to bring Astrid with me too._

Darkness draws in and I hear the distant roll of thunder as the snow seems to fall colder and heavier, and I realise that the potion Karliah gave me starts to wear off as we approach the city docks, the wind howling viciously, whipping a freezing salt spray off the writhing water that hits my face and chills me to the bone in seconds. I quickly acknowledge to myself just how grateful I am that Karliah's warming potion lasted as long as it did, shivering violently as I pull my cloak tighter around my body not only to protect against the cold but also to hide the blood stains on my clothing. I keep my head down and follow close behind Karliah as she leads the way through the docks; clearly as reluctant as I am to venture into the city itself, the Dunmer heads to a large stone building lashed by the spray of the water, pointedly ignoring the sailors drinking outside as she walks past them and pushes open the door.

Inside, the damp warmth and the humming noise of voices and laughter and clinking glasses stuns me for a moment, my ears attuned to either howling winds or deathly silence. The inn is large and crowded, and for a moment I remember the last time I was in a Windhelm tavern and the crude conversations I had to overhear from the Nords. _At least Karliah is more than capable of defending herself from them,_ I think, before I wonder why I should even care whether the dark elf can protect herself from any harassment. _I should worry about myself, seeing as I'm the one penniless, weaponless and altogether defenceless._

My exhaustion hits me then, and without waiting for Karliah's orders or even caring what she intends to do next, I locate the nearest empty table and stumble eagerly towards it, my legs giving way beneath me just as I drop down onto the chair.

I sigh with the relief, my entire body slumping down against the back of the hard wooden chair as if it were a feather mattress. I breathe deeply the warm air of the inn, the scent of salt and ale and damp not entirely pleasant but keenly pleasurable compared with either the fresh blood and death of the ruin or the cold wet smell of snow. _Once I leave this place, I'll never go anywhere near the fucking snow again,_ I decide, brushing the flakes from my cloak and pushing back my hood, feeling my cheeks start to flush from the heat of the inn and soon realising that I could fall asleep right now if I only closed my eyes. _But even I'm not stupid enough to do that,_ I think, although as I feel the cold tension start to leave my body, the noise of the dockside inn's patrons becomes little more than a blurred hum that almost lulls me to sleep.

Minutes have passed before it dawns on me through my comfortable haze that I am still alone and Karliah has not followed me to the table. When I look around the crowded inn, I see no sign of her. _Was that it, then?_ I think, wondering if the violet-eyed thief and I have already parted ways without me even knowing and finding myself surprised when I feel a curious flicker of panic at the thought. _I'm_ _going to the Brotherhood_ _and she's going gods only know where_ _,_ I think, reminding myself that I should only feel relief that her path and mine are separate. _It wasn't so long ago she would've seen me dead if it served her purpose._

Before I can decide whether Karliah would still exchange my life for her own gain if it came to it, I jump when a bowl of stew and a bottle of ale appear on the table in front of me. Startled, I look up to find Karliah standing next to the table.

'Eat,' she says shortly, and I need no further instruction to do as she commands, reaching eagerly for the bowl.

The hot stew burns my lips and tongue and my throat twinges uncomfortably as I swallow fast but I barely feel any of the pains, unable to contain my quiet sound of satisfaction at the taste of the food and the warmth spreading in my stomach as I eat. _This feels better than anything Mercer ever did to me,_ I think distantly, pausing to take a deep gulp from the bottle, the pungent taste of the ale turning my tongue but finding myself caring little what it tastes like, deciding that I am simply glad for something that isn't snow.

It's minutes later when I am about halfway through my meal when my mind reconnects and I realise that Karliah has gone, and with a look around the room and towards the bar on the far side, I come to the conclusion that she has left the inn altogether. _And that's it._ With my body now at least somewhat relaxed and satiated, my mind starts to process exactly what being on my own means and I have to force back the uncertainty that suddenly gnaws at me with the thought. _First, I need to make this last,_ I think, taking a tiny sip of my drink, conscious that I have no coin to buy more food, let alone a room to spend the night. _And I have no lockpicks, or daggers, or anything at all,_ _actually_ _,_ I think, before I remember that I am alive and my life is more than what I expected to have when I left Snow Veil Sanctum. _I'll somehow just have to think of a way of getting to the other side of Skyrim and maybe consider the possibility of trying to kill Astrid with my bare hands._

I make the remainder of my meal last for what must be at least an hour, the stew cold and the ale warm by the time I finish them as I try to decide what to do. Remembering what I was told when I first arrived in Windhelm, I am considering precisely what the stablehand will accept in exchange for a place in the hay when my gaze is drawn towards the door of the inn and my heart catches in surprise when I notice a familiar hooded figure cutting across the room towards me.

Before I've truly registered her return, Karliah appears beside the table and drops my satchel down onto the empty chair next to me. 'This is yours, I believe,' she says, before she starts to remove the bow from her back.

It takes me a moment to understand, still surprised by her appearance. 'You went to his house?' I say slowly.

She nods before pulling out the chair opposite me and sitting down on the edge, clasping her bow on her lap and dropping a satchel of her own on the ground at her feet. 'He's long gone,' she says, and where I feel only relief from that discovery, she sounds sorely disappointed by Mercer's absence. 'But his house had a few supplies. And I thought you might want your things back.'

I blink in surprise. 'Thank you,' I say, and although I know I have little in the way of belongings or gold, I find myself more grateful than I anticipated at the familiar sight of the leather bag.

I pull my satchel onto my lap and look through it, hoping by some chance that I might find my silver dagger tucked inside where I left it the night Mercer threw me out into the snow. _He's probably sold it for coin,_ I think when I realise the blade is gone, before the unavoidable truth comes to me. _No, he'll have taken it back to the Guild, as proof that I am dead. He'll show it to Rune and tell him justice has been done._

Not wanting to dwell on that thought when the Thieves Guild and everyone in it is now behind me, I search through the rest of my satchel, glad at least to discover some clean clothes. When my hands touch upon a crumple of parchment at the bottom of the bag, I frown in confusion, not registering what it is until I peel apart the wrappings to find folds of dark violet silk, the material softer than the feathers of a young bird.

Before I can stop myself, my mind replays the night Sapphire returned from Solitude and gave me the dress. _I was more preoccupied with wondering how many times she and Brynjolf had fucked,_ I think bitterly, before the actual truth of my preoccupation hits me and I remember what the Guildmaster had done to me earlier that night, when he had learnt of Karliah's interference with the Guild and he had cornered me in the water room. _And I remember the look in Sapphire's eyes when she found out the Guildmaster was fucking me, and how she had tried to warn me away ever since._

The thought of the raven-haired thief makes my heart clench tight in my chest and I suddenly think of the Cistern, of Mercer at his desk and the other guildmembers going about their business, of Sapphire sitting on her bed within the Guildmaster's line of sight. _What would I do if our places were reversed? If I was there at the Cistern and Mercer was telling me that Sapphire was a treacherous whore who had stolen from the Guild?_ Then I think what I would do if Sapphire was the one Mercer took into his room and punished, and suddenly what fear and unease I felt over the uncertainty of my future vanishes beneath the vicious fury at the thought of Sapphire being left alone anywhere near Mercer Frey. _And if he decides he needs to pin his next crimes on someone else and chooses Sapphire for that role, there's nothing I can do about it._

Unable to bear neither my thoughts nor the sight of Sapphire's gift any longer, I look up and realise that Karliah is watching me. I quickly swallow the strange dryness in my throat, the wound on my neck hurting twice as much with the effort, and I shove the parchment wrappings back over the dress.

'I thought you'd gone,' I say, my voice hoarser than I expected and wishing I had something more to drink.

'Not yet,' Karliah says. 'I wanted to check Mercer's house one last time before I head to the Guild.'

I look at her in surprise. 'You're really going to the Guild?' I repeat, more than a touch of incredulity in my voice.

She nods once, her expression resigned. 'All these years, I've been trying to take Mercer down from the shadows, but it's been a long time since the shadows...' Karliah tails off, her eyes darkening, and she seems to change her mind about whatever she was going to say. 'I'm alone, and trying to take him down by myself isn't working. I thought confronting him with the truth and making a deal with him might work, but he is no different from the man I once knew.' Her mouth twists bitterly. 'I can't reason with him, and I can't kill him. I need the support of the Guild if I'm to make this right. So yes, Wren, I am going to the Guild.'

I stare at her, more than one question rising to my mind and leaving me wondering if she does not see the flaw in her plan. 'The Guild believes you're a murderous traitor,' I point out, seeing no reason to word it gently. 'As far as they're concerned, you're the one who killed Gallus and has been stealing from the Guild all this time.'

She inclines her head, not taking her violet eyes away from mine. 'Not all of them believe that,' she says.

I don't miss her meaning. 'I think I was officially kicked out of the Guild the moment Mercer cut my throat,' I say. 'I can't go back there to help you get their support. They all think I'm a traitor too, remember?'

'Somehow I suspect not all of them will think that of you,' she says softly.

I clutch at my satchel on my lap and choose to ignore her, not wanting to risk my heart by hoping that any of the guildmembers will disbelieve Mercer's lies. 'Why can't you kill him?' I say instead, still confused about the events that occurred in the ruin and no less confused about Karliah either, when she has given me so little in the way of information about herself. 'You had a clear shot on him before. You could've ended all of this right then and there.'

A brief pained look of frustration cuts across her face. 'It's more complicated than that,' she says shortly. 'His death is all I have thought about for five years, but I know it would not end this. He has the Key, and if he dies, he'll have made sure I could never find it.' Before I can open my mouth to question her and find out just what this mysterious Key is, Karliah continues speaking, her words successfully silencing me. 'Look, I need help, Wren,' she says, the confession seeming to come to her with great difficulty, her plum-toned lips pursed tight and reluctant to make the words. 'I have been trying to do this on my own but I know now that I can't.' She hesitates, closing her eyes for a moment before she speaks again. 'I need the Guild. I need you.'

'You don't need me,' I say, quickly recovering from my surprise and finding myself unable to fully trust what she is saying. _She might need me to die again, if it comes to that._ 'You've managed to outsmart Mercer for years,' I remind her, unable to keep the touch of jealous admiration out of my voice. 'I know I could never do that.'

At my words and the tone of my voice, I see the faintest flicker of satisfaction in the Dunmer's violet eyes before the look vanishes so quickly I am sure I imagined it. 'I've done what I can,' she says simply. 'But do you really think all the failed jobs and bad luck the Guild has had over the years was purely because of me?'

'Delvin said it was a curse,' I say. 'I think it's more likely you've been doing everything you can to take down Mercer.'

'I have, but that doesn't mean Delvin wasn't right too.' Karliah seems to expect my sceptical expression, and her determined expression does not change. 'Look, I told you it doesn't matter what any of us believe. Mercer has to be stopped. And I need your help, if you will give it.'

I can only look at her, uncertainty rendering me wordless. _I want to help,_ I realise suddenly, surprising myself with the thought and yet well aware of the quietly burning fury inside me that desires nothing more than to pay Mercer back in kind for what he has done. _And yet I know it would be smarter to run as far away as I could and_ _take my chances with Astrid instead._

At my silence, a flicker of frustration flashes into Karliah's eyes once again. 'I saved your life,' she reminds me, her voice hard. 'I could've let you die in that ruin. I didn't. Ignore everything else if you like, but you owe me for that.'

 _She's right. I would've died if it wasn't for her._ However, that truth slips from my mind as instead I remember what would have been my last thoughts had Karliah indeed let me die. 'I have another life owed to me,' I tell her. 'A life more important than my own.'

A small frown pulls at Karliah's brow as she looks at me in silence for several seconds, but her expression is one of contemplation rather than irritation at my refusal. 'I heard what Mercer said,' she says eventually. 'You want to kill the leader of the Dark Brotherhood.'

'I am going to kill her,' I answer sharply, trying to convince myself as much as the Dunmer, conscious that her voice is faintly amused, as if she can hardly believe the weak young woman across the table from her could even hope to kill Astrid. 'Even if it takes the rest of my life, I will see her bleeding on the ground at my feet.'

Seemingly unfazed by the ferocity of my words, Karliah falls silent again for almost a minute, her purple eyes studying me carefully from beneath the shadows of her hood.

'Help me,' she says quietly. 'And I'll help you.'

I stare at her, not needing her to explain what she means and feeling my heart suddenly race faster at the prospect of what she is suggesting.

_If she was skilled enough to outsmart Mercer all these years and get us both out of that ruin alive, maybe she can help me take down Astrid._

'I just need you to help me get the Guild on my side,' Karliah says quickly, evidently knowing what is passing through my mind and knowing she almost has me convinced already. 'I'm not asking you to go near Mercer again. I said I'd protect you, and I meant it, Wren. I swear by Nocturnal that you will never feel pain at his hands again. We'll do this together, and once Mercer is shown for what he truly is, I will do whatever I can to help you in return. But I need to know if you are with me now.'

The name she invokes means as little to me now as it did in Snow Veil Sanctum. _Yet I trust her anyway, despite what she did, and what she still might do._ The realisation shocks me, as does the realisation that my mind is already decided, well aware that if I can make Mercer pay and deal with Astrid from a stronger position, I do not need to deliberate further.

_Besides, what better option do I have now, with no coin and no weapons?_

'All right,' I say, hoping I do not regret my words, although some part of me already suspects that I will. 'I'm with you.'

Karliah's mouth pulls into the first true smile I have seen and I realise how well it suits the sharp angles of her pretty face, her eyes curving into half-moons and the curious violet of her irises seeming all the brighter as keen relief flashes across her face. 'Good,' she says, before the smile promptly vanishes behind her more customary reserved look. 'Who do you trust the most in the Guild? Sapphire? You spent a lot of time with her, didn't you? If we contact her, will she come to us?'

I hesitate, taken aback at her abrupt questions. _She's had five years, I expect she doesn't want to wait any longer._ 'I trust Sapphire,' I say slowly, trying not to wonder just how often Karliah watched from the shadows. 'But whether she trusts me now after what Mercer's told her, I can't say.'

'When we get back to the Rift, we'll send word to her and ask her to meet you.' Karliah stands up and attaches her bow to her back once again, forcing me to realise just how little time she intends to waste. _So much for sleeping then._ 'We'll just have to hope she doesn't think it's a trap.'

'I have something we can send her,' I say, my fingers brushing over the parchment wrappings of the dress as I close my satchel. 'If I was really who Mercer claims, I would've sold it long ago for the gold.'

'Then let's go. The sooner we get to the Rift, the better.' Karliah holds out her hand to me. 'I'd rather never come anywhere near this damned city again.'

'And here I'd almost grown fond of the cold,' I say sarcastically, and as I take her hand and let her help me to my weary feet, I almost catch sight of the Dunmer's small smile again.

 

 *

 

I soon discover that aiding Karliah means that I will likely never have a full night's sleep again until Mercer lies broken and begging at her feet. After Karliah liberates a horse from a nearby farm and I change my blood-stained clothes in the freezing cold barn, we take the snowy road south, and the journey back to Riften passes far quicker than when I travelled north not so long ago. I try to get what sleep I can from my uncomfortable position behind the saddle with my arms wrapped around Karliah's waist, but without any further potions to warm my body, I feel every chill of the wind and I do not sleep at all that first night. As we travel further south, Karliah stops only infrequently and briefly to rest the horse's legs and to steal food and supplies from a nearby settlement or farm, at which point I collapse beside her magical fire in whatever cave she chooses and promptly fall into an exhausted sleep, only to be shaken awake what seems like seconds later. I curse my decision and the Dunmer more than once, but Karliah's relentless haste proves worthwhile, as the landscape changes from winter to autumn swifter than I expected, and the sight of the Rift's fiery trees makes my heart flutter with a faint shred of hope. _I thought I'd only see the forests again in the void._

Karliah leaves me with one of her glass daggers at a small cave in the forest not far from Riften and rides to the city alone, with my hastily written letter and my dress wrapped tightly in its parchment. I don't ask how she intends to deliver the items to Sapphire without Mercer knowing, simply hoping that she does not plan on holding the raven-haired thief at knifepoint to get the message to her.

Alone in the wilderness and yet so near to the Guild and its Guildmaster, my mind is hardly at ease but I am too exhausted to do anything besides curl up on the earthy ground next to the fire Karliah lit before she left. _At least she seems to hate the cold as much as I do,_ I think vaguely before I close my eyes and fall asleep in mere moments.

I sleep fitfully but my dreams are mercifully devoid of anything tangible. I wake too soon and to the sound of spitting meat on a fire, the scent mingling with the damp dankness of the cave.

'There's water from the stream in that skin,' Karliah's voice says from somewhere behind me as I open my eyes, leaving me wondering how she even knows I am awake when I am faced away from her and the fire. 'The rabbit will be cooked soon.'

I notice the waterskin placed in front of me. 'Thanks,' I say, sitting up and reaching out for the water, still feeling half-asleep and groggy as I turn around to face her. 'How long was I asleep?'

'A couple of hours.' Karliah watches me from the other side of the fire, the shadows dancing in her eyes and beneath her sharp high cheekbones. _Though the ones under her eyes are always there._

'Do you ever sleep?' I ask her as I sip at the water.

Karliah raises an eyebrow but as she opens her mouth to reply, something flashes in her eyes and she grabs her bow from beside her, rising to her feet and nocking an arrow in one fluid motion before I've even comprehended what she's doing.

Startled but knowing by now to trust Karliah's awareness of her surroundings, I struggle to my feet and turn around to follow Karliah's gaze in the direction of the cave entrance, where a warm glow from the setting sun presses in to the stony hollow. I hold my breath, listening, and a moment later when I hear a twig snap and the soft whinny of our stolen horse outside, I draw Karliah's glass dagger from my thigh with a shaking hand, not entirely confident that I can use the weapon effectively.

 _But_ _I don't need to,_ I realise with a jolt in my heart, as a figure steps into the cave, and although they are at first little more than a slender silhouette against the warm red light of the sunset, I do not need to see them to know who it is.

I sheathe my dagger as Sapphire walks forward, my heart fluttering fast and barely believing that she came – and when I realise she is not alone. my fragile heart stops for a moment, although my eyes soon discern that the man is younger, the shoulders are slimmer, and the short hair is a dark blond not red, and I find I am keenly relieved to see that it is Rune and not who I thought. _If it were, this would be all the harder._

As Sapphire and Rune walk towards us and come into the firelight, I stand paralysed as surely as I was in the ruin, although this time I am numb from something other than any poison. _It's surprise. It's relief._ When the two thieves stop a few paces away, I can only stand and look at them in awkward silence, still not quite believing that they have come. _Unless they are_ _only_ _here to drag me back to the Guild for justice._

Rune closes the gap between us first, striding forward and pulling me into a fierce hug before I've even had a chance to say a word. As his arms close around my waist, my arms instinctively wind around his neck and I bury my face in his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body.

'You're all right?' the thief murmurs in my ear, his words half a question, half a statement, as if he is trying to convince both himself and me.

At his quiet words and the way he holds me gently against his body, my arms tighten around him and I cling to him more desperately than I ever clutched at Mercer when he fucked me, more fiercely than I clutched at Brynjolf when he kissed me. _I'd stay in his arms forever,_ _in this moment forever_ _,_ I think as I close my eyes and hold on to his warm solid body, no part of me wanting to let Rune go, treasuring the precious few seconds where I can pretend that I deserve his loyalty. _And the illusion that I will_ _never be hurt again_.

'I'm all right,' I answer faintly, and it's a few seconds longer before I reluctantly let my arms slip away from his neck and we break apart. I feel the weight of his concerned gaze but my eyes are drawn to the other thief, feeling her hazel gaze is distinctly cooler, her expression guarded as if she is hesitant to show any reaction to seeing me again.

Sapphire and I look at each other for a moment, before I see her eyes wandering over the scar at my neck, and I suddenly realise that I have no idea how bad it looks. With no time to try to heal it further myself or even to look at my own reflection, I can only imagine the sight of the scar where Mercer cut me. _I know it feels bad enough,_ I think, having traced my fingertips gingerly over the wound several times and felt the sensitive paper-thin skin barely holding the split flesh together and the uneven stitching of Karliah's hastily wrought spell.

'You can say I told you so,' I say lightly, trying not to let my voice shake.

Sapphire's jaw clenches. 'I'm not going to do that,' she says, her voice clipped. 'I'm going to kill him.'

'Then we share the same goal.' Karliah steps forward, her bow lowered, although her lingering caution narrows her eyes as she comes to stand beside me and looks over the two thieves. 'Do Brynjolf and Delvin trust you? If you speak to them when Mercer is not there, will they listen?'

'Karliah-' I start, thinking that we might need to explain ourselves and what happened first.

'We'll make them listen,' Rune says, surprising me with the briskness in his voice and the fact he does not seem to want an explanation. 'What do you need us to do?'

I see a flicker of relief in the Dunmer's violet eyes, as if she too half-expected to have to explain herself. 'Tell them the truth,' she says. 'Mercer killed Gallus and has been stealing from the Guild for years. Wren and I are both innocent of the crimes he has pinned on us.' She hesitates for a moment. 'And tell them I have proof of his treachery.'

Not giving us a moment to question her further, Karliah turns around and leaves her bow beside the fire before striding over to the furthest recess of the cave. She brushes aside a mossy overhang and pulls loose a few stones to reveal a small nook in the crumbling cave wall, into which she reaches her hand and retrieves a book bound in worn black leather.

'This is Gallus' journal, from the months leading up to his death,' she says, walking back to us with the book in her hands. 'I hid it here a long time ago, in the hope that I could one day show it to the Guild. This will prove what we are saying about Mercer is true.'

I look at her in surprise, noticing she holds the journal as tightly as I clutched at Rune. _But Gallus' words might mean more to her than they will to anyone else._ 'Karliah...' I start again carefully, but Sapphire voices my concern before I can find the words.

'A diary isn't proof of anything,' the raven-haired thief says bluntly.

A frown presses in at the Dunmer's brow. 'Gallus discovered Mercer was stealing from the Guild,' she says. 'He recorded everything he knew in his journal.'

'But anyone could have written that,' I point out, trying to contain my disappointment that this is the extent of the Dunmer's plan against the Guildmaster. 'Mercer could just argue that you've written it to implicate him. The Guild might think that anyway.'

'Brynjolf and Delvin will recognise Gallus' writing,' Karliah insists, her expression turning frostier.

'You could've forged it,' I say, and Sapphire nods.

'In five years, even a child could be taught to copy someone's handwriting,' the raven-haired thief puts in. 'Gallus' diary isn't proof of anything.'

'Do you have better proof?' Karliah snaps, the frost turning to fire in her eyes. 'Don't you think if there was some other way of convincing the Guild, I would've done it by now?'

I baulk at her sharpness but Sapphire only folds her arms, the expression on her pretty face as hard as the Dunmer's. 'A better idea would've been not hiding for five years,' she says. 'You haven't exactly made yourself look innocent.'

'Have you ever been hunted by Mercer Frey?' Karliah retorts, fury flashing dangerously in her eyes. 'I didn't really have the opportunity to wander over to the Guild and have a friendly chat about what actually happened.'

'All right,' Rune says quickly, before Sapphire can open her mouth. 'What matters is that we have evidence against Mercer.' He looks at Karliah, determination in his deep blue eyes. 'We'll show it to the Guild, the next time he's not there,' he tells her, but at the suggestion, Karliah brings the book to her chest, her fingers gripping its leather cover tightly.

'And risk him taking it before that happens?' she says sharply. 'I don't think so. I've kept it safe from Mercer for years, I'm not handing it over to him now.'

No one speaks for a moment. _That book holds_ _Gallus' last words,_ I realise, understanding the Dunmer's protectiveness, knowing that if I were her, I would not relinquish the journal to the people who would have happily killed me only a few hours ago.

Rune seems to understand too, as he does not press the topic. 'Then we'll just tell Brynjolf and Delvin that we have it,' he says, his voice level. 'We'll bring them here to read the journal for themselves. We won't take it anywhere near Mercer, I swear.'

Karliah opens her mouth and closes it again, a distinctly grateful look in her purple eyes as she looks at Rune, and for a brief moment I think she might be about to thank him, until her lips abruptly purse together and she lowers the book from her chest, as if no longer wanting to draw attention to the object's obvious significance to her. 'Good,' she says shortly. 'Then you should go. The sooner they come here and read it, the better.'

Without another word, the Dunmer turns away and walks back to the corner of the cave to hide Gallus' journal once again. If Rune and Sapphire are offended by the abruptness of Karliah's dismissal, they make no comment on it, and as their gazes fall back to me, the reality of the situation suddenly dawns on me. _They've come here, risking their lives to meet with me, to willingly follow the commands of a woman they thought was a_ _murderous_ _traitor, all because of me._

'Thank you,' I say awkwardly, wishing I knew how to put into words the feeling in my heart. 'And I'm sorry to drag you into this.'

Neither thief seems to expect or want my thanks or apologies, as they do not acknowledge my words; Sapphire only looks at me with her familiar guarded look in her eyes as her gaze flits over the scar at my neck again, and Rune makes a small smile before he reaches down to unfasten a dagger from his hip.

'I have something for you,' he says, and as I follow the direction of his hands, I feel my heart skip a beat.

When Rune holds out the familiar silver dagger to me, I do not take it, fearing some trick, remembering the last time I saw the moon-like blade in Mercer's bedroom in Windhelm. _Before he threw me out into the snow for Karliah to find._

'Mercer gave this to you?' I say in cautious disbelief.

'Not exactly.' Rune pushes the dagger into my hands. 'It was on his desk, and he's been distracted since he returned. I took it when I had the chance. It belongs to you, Wren. You should have it, not him.'

'Thank you,' I manage to say, touched that he would risk stealing from Mercer for me. I clutch the dagger in my hands, feeling its familiar weight and yet suddenly not knowing what to do with it, having convinced myself I would never see the blade again. _I convinced myself I'd never see Sapphire and Rune again either,_ I realise, and the warm feeling in my heart returns, part of me still not quite believing that they trust me enough to risk themselves in this way and to work against Mercer.

'We should go,' Sapphire says shortly, not waiting for Rune to agree before she turns and strides back to the cave entrance, her arms still folded across her body, although the early evening temperature is mild.

Rune follows her out of the cave, and I trail behind them, desperately wishing I could go with them, that we could walk back to the city together and spend the rest of the night in the Flagon. _But I can't,_ I think bitterly, knowing well enough that if I went anywhere near the Guildmaster, I might as well reopen the wound on my neck myself. _He's tried killing me once, and I expect he'll try harder next time,_ _if I give him the chance_ _._

As if she reads my mind, Sapphire stops abruptly just outside the cave and turns to face me, the setting sun through the trees catching the warm brown flecks in her eyes. 'Does Mercer know you're alive?' she asks.

The thought makes my stomach flip uncomfortably. 'Maybe,' I say, hardly surprised if Mercer had learnt of my survival in the few days since he left me to die. _For all I know, he had spies in that Windhelm dockside inn._

Sapphire looks at me for a second, some thought darkening her eyes. 'I told you I would cut his throat if you asked,' she says finally, her voice edged hard.

'I wouldn't ask, Saph,' I tell her truthfully, as disinclined to have her go anywhere near Mercer Frey now as I was when she first made the promise to me. _I know what he can do now._

'And that was my mistake,' she says shortly. 'I shouldn't have waited for you to ask.' She is about to turn around when a thought seems to come to her and she stops, looking back one last time. 'Your dress is safe at the Guild, by the way,' she says, her eyes lightening so briefly I must have imagined it. 'For the next time you get yourself into trouble and need to send me a message.'

'I'll try not to make a habit of it,' I joke as I force my mouth into a smile, wanting to see her eyes light up again, but she only turns away without another word and this time she does not look back.

Rune gives me a last reassuring smile. 'It'll be all right, Wren,' he says. 'We'll clear your name, and Karliah's, I swear.'

I can only nod as he turns away to follow Sapphire, and I watch the two thieves walk away towards the setting sun, their figures soon disappearing between the autumn-sparse trees as they head in what must be the direction of the city. _I wish I knew,_ I think, before I wonder what good it would do if I knew where Riften is from here. _I can't go back, not yet, and maybe not ever._

I stay where I am for longer than I should, standing in the cave entrance for minutes after Rune and Sapphire have vanished from my sight, clutching the dagger in my hands as I breathe in the damp smell of the fallen leaves. As I listen to the nearby stream and the horse whickering quietly from where Karliah tied it to a tree near to the cave, I close my eyes for a moment, feeling the dying sun on my face, my cool skin warming a little with the last of the light. _I forgot what this felt like,_ I think, before the sun sets deeper behind the expanse of the forest and a keen chill moves over me.

Reluctantly, I turn around and return to the cave to find Karliah pacing up and down. Her violet eyes glance over me briefly as she walks the short length of the cavern, but she says nothing and before I can read the expression on her face, she turns around and walks the other way, and I realise she does not want to talk.

More than willing to let the silence endure, I settle down by the fire again, laying my silver dagger carefully beside me and reaching for the waterskin to drink deeply before curling up on the earthy ground and closing my eyes, intending to try to sleep for as long as I can. _Once Brynjolf and Delvin talk to Karliah and the Guild is on her side, I won't be needed here anymore,_ I think, knowing where my road will take me once the Guild learns the truth about Mercer and they deal with his treachery. _I'll be going to Falkreath. To the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary. To Astrid._ The thought at once terrifies and angers me, afraid of what will happen and yet feeling the familiar flicker of frustration that I have even let Astrid live for this long. _But no more._ _I know where she is. And at least I have one dagger now._

'Thank you, Wren.' Barely audible and yet making me jump all the same, Karliah's sudden words are little more than a whisper, some part of me thinking her voice is only in my dream. 'They wouldn't have come here to speak to me if it weren't for you. So thank you.'

I do not answer, content to pretend that I am truly asleep and keenly wishing that I was. _Her gratitude means nothing to me,_ I tell myself firmly, remembering how she had me in binds not so long ago and finding myself wondering if she will even keep to her word and offer me any help with Astrid – and yet, some part of me welcomes her gratitude and suddenly longs to tell her that she doesn't need to thank me, that I know she has been hurt too and that I am glad to help her if I can. _I never thought I'd want to help someone who would've killed me only a few days ago,_ I think, before I start to wonder if I am still just as stupid and foolish as I was before when I willingly obeyed Mercer no matter what he did to me, and the thought is too unnerving that I quickly push it aside and close my eyes tighter, wishing I still believed in the promise of a mindless oblivion.

 

*

 

As the night draws in, I sleep only a little and as restlessly as before. I feel Karliah's impatient tension growing with every passing hour, and coupled with my own nervous anticipation at the possibility of Brynjolf and Delvin turning up sometime soon, it's not long before I abandon the idea of sleep. As the cool dawn light starts to break into the cave, I sit beside the magical fire and decide to use the time to try to heal the tender wound at my throat, but I quickly discover that my strength is too depleted to even bring a faint warm glow to my hands. Fighting own my rising frustration and growing increasingly irritated with the Dunmer's silent pacing, I tell Karliah that I'm going to get some fresh air.

The day passes slowly, and I spend the time wandering in the forest as much as I can, never straying too far away from the cave and returning to the shelter and the fire to avoid the frequent light autumn rains, some part of me continually waiting to hear approaching footsteps in the soggy fallen leaves. By the time twilight draws in and the misty rain starts to fall again, I return to the cave for the night, finding Karliah cross-legged beside the fire with a couple of empty vials on the ground next to her, her slender hands moving quickly as she crushes flowers and bits of plant into a paste between two stones.

My hair still damp from washing in the chilly waters of the nearby stream, I sit close to the fire and decide to try to heal the wound at my neck again, but like all my previous attempts during the last day and night, the spell dies in my palms before I can even feel the faintest warmth in my hands.

I give up trying to heal myself further and watch Karliah for a minute, noticing the force of her movements and feeling the impatience radiating fiercely from her, and it's not long before the tense silence finally becomes unbearable.

'When the Guild is on our side, what do we do then?' I ask, the question having lingered in my mind ever since we left Windhelm and conscious that Karliah has still not revealed anything further about herself or her plans. 'You said Mercer has this... Skeleton Key? You have to take it back somewhere?' I wait for her to explain further, but she only continues to crush the flowers against the stone in silence, and her refusal to talk sparks my frustration once again. _I agreed to help and she tells me nothing, like I'm a child too stupid to understand._ 'What if the Guild doesn't believe us?' I ask instead, not wanting to bring up Gallus' journal and the nature of the evidence contained therein but unable to avoid the fact that it has been a day since Rune and Sapphire left and yet no one from the Guild has come to meet with us.

Karliah does not reply, but her stony silence is answer enough to explain to me why she is so on edge. _The exact same things are going through her mind._

'If Brynjolf and Delvin don't come, what are we going to do?' I say a little sharper. 'Don't you have another plan to take down Mercer?'

'Look, you spent more time alone with Mercer than I ever did,' Karliah says bitingly, not hiding her disgust as she looks up at me. 'You know him far more intimately than me, Wren, so why don't _you_ come up with a plan to take him down and show him to the Guild for what he truly is?'

I blink, stunned for a moment and feeling my cheeks redden with her words. 'I don't know,' I say finally. 'But we have to think of something.'

'Let me know how that goes,' Karliah says, her voice sharp. 'As you are obviously aware, I'm no mastermind. Gallus was always the one-' Karliah stops abruptly, her jaw set hard. 'Gallus was the one who would've fucking fixed this a long time ago,' she mutters, turning her gaze back down, but not quick enough for me to miss the pain in her eyes.

I let the silence hang for a moment, uncertain how to reply and finding my frustration doused by my realisation. _She loved him,_ I think, remembering what Brynjolf had said about them, before my mind wanders to the redhead's smile when I said the word _lovers_ and I feel a strange fluttering in my heart, the thought of him suddenly hurting badly enough that I can only imagine how Karliah feels to have lost someone who actually cared for her.

'I've heard he was a good man,' I say tentatively, uncertain if she wants to talk about it, but I get my answer swift and hard enough, when the Dunmer shuts me down before I can say anything more.

'I'll catch us something to eat,' she says shortly, even though night has fallen outside and neither of us have eaten the pheasant she caught a few hours ago, but before she can drop the stones and reach for her bow, I catch sight of movement at the cave entrance, and out of the corner of my eye I see someone step out of the shadows.

My heart freezes in shock but Karliah reacts faster than I can even draw breath, grabbing her slender silver sword from the ground and drawing both it and the dagger from her thigh, rising to her feet armed and poised before I've even registered where my daggers are beside me.

'It's just me,' a familiar voice calls out, and a second later Rune steps into the firelight, quickly pushing back his hood, his jacket dappled with rain and his boots muddy from the forest. 'Sorry, I didn't mean to catch you off-guard.'

Relieved to see him again, I get to my feet as Karliah sheathes her weapons, and from the look in her eyes I realise that she too did not expect Rune to catch her unawares. As he walks forward to the fire, my relief at the sight of him falters slightly when I notice that he is alone, and from the way he looks around the cave, I realise that he seems disturbed by the distinct lack of any other guildmembers in attendance.

Karliah clearly makes the same assessment. 'Where are Brynjolf and Delvin?' she says without hesitation as she walks around the fire to stand before him. 'Are they with you? Are they coming?'

'I haven't spoken to them yet,' Rune tells her apologetically. 'Delvin's been away from the Cistern with clients and I haven't seen Brynjolf in days. But I'll speak to them, I swear.'

The Dunmer's disappointment cuts across her pretty face but my attention is on Rune's own expression as I realise that his blue eyes are clouded with doubt, and my heart suddenly lurches in a strange but fierce trepidation. _He's afraid to say whatever he's come here to say._

'Then why are you here?' I say warily.

'It's Sapphire,' Rune says, his tone reluctant and his brow furrowed with concern. 'I was hoping she might be here.'

Something twists tight in my stomach. 'What do you mean?' I ask, some part of me already knowing and not wanting to hear it.

'When we got back to Riften last night, she said she wasn't going to risk Brynjolf and Delvin betraying us to Mercer if we didn't have actual proof to back up what we're saying.' Rune hesitates, his gaze flickering to Karliah, clearly registering her frown at his words and remembering her previous reaction when she showed us the journal. When his gaze moves back at me, Rune's eyes are pained, as if he does not want to speak the words. 'Sapphire said she was going to Riftweald to find her own proof.'

'Riftweald?' I repeat, not understanding what he means but recognising well enough the growing apprehension in my stomach.

'Rune-' Karliah starts, but the words are out of Rune's mouth before she can silence him.

'Mercer's house in the city, the one near the Black-Briar mansion,' the dark blond thief tells me. 'I tried to stop her but she wouldn't listen, and I haven't seen her since. I hoped she might be here.'

Rune looks at Karliah as he continues speaking, but I don't hear the words over the sudden racing of my heart, the blood thudding loud and fast in my ears as I try to process what he has told me and finding my mind trapped on only one thought.

_I remember well enough what happened when I broke into Mercer's room._

Ice-cold claws drag down my back, sending a chill straight to my heart. Not needing to think or speak any further, I turn around to the fire and pick up my daggers from the ground.

'Wren,' Karliah says warningly, turning away from Rune as my shaking hands quickly strap her borrowed glass dagger and my own silver dagger to my thighs. 'You can't go to his house. If Mercer really has her, don't you think he'll know you'll try to rescue her?'

'Do you think I fucking care?' I snap, turning back to Rune. 'I'm coming back to Riften with you.'

Rune's deep blue eyes flicker to the violet ones almost indiscernibly before he looks back at me. 'Karliah's right,' he says. 'You're safer here.'

I look at him in shock, barely believing that the dark blond thief chooses now to disagree with me for what might be the first time, feeling my heart thudding fast and frightened in my chest as my mind still tries to process what he has told me _._ _She can't have really gone there. She surely knows what he's capable of doing if she crosses him._ The thoughts cut deeper when I realise Sapphire must have thought the same about me.

Karliah makes the most of my stunned silence. 'I told you I'd protect you,' she reminds me. 'I can't do that if you go to Mercer's house, Wren.'

'Well, you're welcome to come with me,' I say bluntly, but before I can turn away and head for the cave entrance alone, the Dunmer catches my arm.

'I'm not walking into his trap again and neither are you.'' Karliah stares at me, holding me fast as I try to pull my arm free of her grip. 'You think I didn't try to break in to his house once in five years? He has guards and every door is locked tighter than a jail cell.'

'And you couldn't ever slip past using your _Nightingale tricks?'_ I retort, thinking of what Mercer said in Snow Veil Sanctum and how Karliah managed to elude him, but my words and memories only remind me of how little the Dunmer has told me about herself and I suddenly wonder why the hell I am even waiting for her to agree with my intention to rescue the raven-haired thief. _Karliah's not my friend. Sapphire is. And she's in trouble._

'I could,' Karliah says, not releasing my arm as I struggle against her hold, surprising me once again with her strength. 'But he would've expected that. And if there's one thing I've learnt is that if Mercer expects something, you don't want to do it.' Her violet eyes are unblinking as she looks at me, a hard expression on her face, as if she dislikes the words from her mouth but knows she has to speak them anyway. 'Are you telling me he won't expect you to try to rescue Sapphire if he's taken her captive? That he has some game in mind for you to play the minute you show up there?'

Despite the panicked racing of my heart, I find it difficult to argue with her. _Mercer surely remembers how I reacted when Sapphire got thrown into jail,_ I think, before with a flash of bitterness I remember of how much pleasure he took from my pain that night, and every night since. _And how I always played right into his hands._

The truth hits me that I cannot deny Karliah's words, and my stomach seems to hollow with the realisation. _He must know I'm alive, and he must know I would try to save Sapphire if he took her._ _And that last game he played with me, it ended with my throat being cut open._

'Fine,' I say coldly, hating myself for the word but hating Karliah more for being right. 'I'll leave her to Mercer, seeing as you seem to enjoy having people die because of you.' Some cruel cold part of relishes the hurt in Dunmer's violet eyes at my harsh words before I wrench my arm out of her hold and turn my icy gaze to Rune. 'Are you going to do nothing as well?'

The dark blond thief falters at my tone and expression, but it's only a second before his jaw sets and his brow lowers with determination. 'Out of all of us, Brynjolf will be able to get into Mercer's house unopposed,' he says. 'He hasn't been around the Guild for days but I'll find him. And I promise, we'll make sure Sapphire is safe.'

'Then go.' I turn away without another word and sit back down on the ground beside the fire, huddling my body close to the magical flames, although their warmth barely touches me and I feel only a deathly bitter chill inside me, just as I did at Snow Veil Sanctum. _I feel like I'm back there,_ _like_ _Mercer is_ _on top of my prone paralysed body, that he is the one deciding what will happen and what I deserve, as he always did_ _._

I don't look around as I hear Karliah murmur something to Rune as she walks with him to the entrance. I don't catch Rune's reply, nor do I care to. When Karliah returns to the fire a minute later and sits down opposite me, I avoid her gaze and stare into the fire, still despising her for being right but now despising myself even more for listening to her. _All the times I ignored my own common sense, and yet now I listen to reason, when it's not me being hurt._

The minutes crawl past in silence. I hear the rain falling outside and I desperate try to empty my mind of everything but that sound, not wanting to think of anything else.

'I never told you about the Nightingales, did I?' Karliah murmurs eventually, startling me with her words. 'I should've explained everything the moment we met, about Nocturnal and the Skeleton Key, but it has never felt like the right time to sit down and talk about it.'

I turn my head sharply to her, the movement making pain twinge in my neck. 'And now is?' I say viciously, my hand rising instinctively to my throat, my fingertips feeling the heat of the tender flesh there, the blood seeming to pulse faster than normal through my neck. 'You really think I want to hear about your precious fucking Key now?'

The Dunmer only looks at me, her eyes flickering down to my neck. 'Does it hurt a lot?' she asks quietly.

'Probably no worse than what Sapphire is feeling right now,' I snap, quickly taking my hand away from the wound at my throat and staring into the flames, not wanting to look at her anymore or admit my pain.

Karliah lets the silence hang in the air again, and I am only too relieved not to speak any further, drawing my knees up to my chest in an attempt to stay warm but knowing no fire or body heat could relieve the chill inside me.

As the minutes slowly turn into an hour and Karliah soon sets to gently crushing the flowers between the stones again, I feel her gaze flicker up onto me repeatedly and yet I barely notice and care even less, my mind restlessly picturing every possible circumstance that Sapphire is enduring at this moment and finding the knot in my stomach tightening with every imagined hurt and humiliation. _This is my fault, I brought her into this,_ I think, realising that if I had never sent her the letter and the dress, she never would have come here and never would have thought to break into Mercer's house. _For me. She did it for me. And I'm just going to sit her and let him do whatever he likes to her._

_And I know what he likes._

I stand up abruptly, my legs aching with stiffness and my heart aching worse. 'I'll be back in a minute,' I say to Karliah.

'Wren,' the Dunmer says, putting aside her vials and rising to her feet too.

'I'm going to get water from the stream,' I tell her. 'Is that a problem?'

She doesn't even bother to throw a pointed look at the full waterskin on the ground beside the fire. 'Wait for Rune to speak to the Brynjolf,' she says. 'He'll find her.'

'Karliah, if you think Brynjolf and Rune will outsmart Mercer, you're clearly thinking with something other than your damn head,' I snap viciously.

Karliah only raises an eyebrow. 'Isn't that what you're doing, Wren?' she says softly, no malice in her voice. 'I learnt the hard way not to listen to your heart when you're dealing with Mercer Frey. Don't make the same mistake as I did.'

'But sitting here and letting her die isn't a mistake?' I say, feeling my heart flutter dangerously with the thought and realising that I have wasted enough time. _An hour, if not more, of sitting here pretending this isn't happening, when I knew what I must do from the moment Rune told me._ 'Look, I don't give a fuck what you believe I should do,' I tell Karliah viciously. 'I agreed to help you and you expect me to trust your fucking word and obey you. Sapphire is my friend, you're little more than a stranger who captured me and now wants to use me to gain the trust of the Guild. Why should I-' I stop myself, knowing that angering her is senseless, as if she wants to stop me physically, she is both stronger and quicker than I am. _Threats will work, though._ 'I'm going to the fucking stream,' I say coldly. 'You can follow me like a fucking jailer if you want, but if you do, I swear I'll never help you with the Guild. They can kill me for a traitor too, but I'll make sure I die telling them that you were the one who murdered Gallus and I've been helping you destroy the Guild all this time.'

Before I can register her expression or wait for her response, I turn away to the entrance of the cave, my legs shaking and my heart pounding when I step out into the drizzling rain. I pull up my hood as I walk towards the stolen horse, tied by its bridle to a nearby tree, daunted by the thought of riding alone for the first time but knowing it is the fastest way to the city. Soon realising that the saddle must be back in the cave, I push aside my trepidation and free the horse, leading it to a nearby tree stump and looping the reins over its head before I use the stump to climb up onto the creature's back awkwardly. Knowing I have no time to worry about how to ride comfortably, I jerk the horse's reins and kick it forward in the direction Sapphire and Rune went last night; as the creature moves and darkness of night envelopes me, the lingering light from the fire in the cave behind disappears and I feel a shred of panic that I may misjudge my bearings and end up lost in the shadows of the forest. _Even if I ride til dawn, at least I'm not sitting doing nothing._

I urge the horse faster, hoping the creature will at least have some instinct of which direction will take us towards civilisation; my hands clinging tight to the reins and my thighs gripping just as tight around the horse's back, the discomfort of riding along with the poor visibility through the misty rain provides an adequate distraction from the thought of exactly where I am going, conscious of the fact that however uncomfortable I am, Sapphire might be suffering far worse at this very moment.

To my intense surprise, it's not long before the trees grow sparser and I discover that we were camped closer to the city than I imagined; the far-off sight of Riften's wooden walls through the murky shapes of the trees and the faint hum of the city sends relief coursing through me, and I urge the horse faster, my relief heightening further when I hear distant neighing ahead off to the right and see firelight flickering in the distance. _I'm near the stables, which means I'm not too far from the secret way into the city that Brynjolf showed me._

As I come to the city wall, the horse slows its pace, overworked and snorting its protest at my urgency. Convinced that I'm near the right place and deciding that I can search the area faster on foot, I dismount, my weak legs quivering beneath me as I land on the sodden ground. I leave the horse free to its own will as I scan around through the night shadows, trying to remember exactly which grassy thicket conceals the trapdoor.

'Fuck,' I curse, wishing the clouds would part to allow moonlight to illuminate the way, knowing my sight is too poor to find the hidden entrance without a source of light and feeling frustrated that Karliah would have undoubtedly been able to find the trapdoor in the dark with ease. _Or she could've cast her flames to_ _set the grass alight_ _to show her the way.  
_

A glimmer of hope strikes me then, and as I raise my hands, the healing spell suddenly glows from my palms before I have even consciously thought about trying to cast. Startled, I hold out my hands and quickly scan the nearby ground, pacing faster than Karliah and straining my eyes through the hazy light, desperate for the spell to last long enough for me to find what I am looking for. As I search, I soon feel my strength wavering, and just as the glow starts to fade from my hands, the faint light falls upon an unusually thick clump of grass, and as I hurry forward, I catch sight of a rotten wooden board peeking out beneath the thicket.

The spell dies in my palms, plunging me back into darkness as I drop down to my knees in the soggy grass and push aside the thicket to wrench open the trapdoor. I waste no time in lowering myself down the slippery rungs of the ladder and descending into the shadowy depths below.

When I drop down onto the damp stone ground and set off through the passageway, I discover that only one of the magelight lanterns is alight about halfway along, the dim glow flickering uneasily and throwing the passageway into utter darkness every few seconds before flaring back into life.

My heart beating as uneasily as the flickering magelight, I haven't walked far before I raise my hands and try to cast the healing spell again, unnerved by the way the shadows seem to move and dance around me and suddenly wanting a steady source of light; however, inhibited by my nerves, only a small dull glow rises in my palms, barely enough to illuminate my own body, let alone banish the shadows that seem to press in around me.

My footsteps falter as I feel a shiver pass down my spine, my nervous breathing louder than the sound of dripping water echoing throughout the tunnel. _If I'm scared now, how the fuck am I going to walk into Mercer's house?_

Steeling myself, I hurry forward, my boots slipping on the mossy ground with my haste and my hands shaking a little as I hold them in front of my body to cast the glow as best I can. When I catch sight of the end of the passageway and the ladder up to the city, relief flutters in my heart momentarily, until suddenly the shadows move around me in a way that I know has nothing to do with the uneasy light.

A hand grabs my shoulder from behind, pulling me back against a broad solid body, and the glowing warmth in my hands extinguishes in an instant as I feel the touch of a dagger pressed to my throat.

I am about to scream when I hear a familiar voice murmur in my ear and my scream dies as surely as the glowing light from my hands.

'Give me one reason.'

A bitter shiver races down my back and my freezes at the feeling of cold glass at my neck, the slender dagger pressing against the place where my skin was so recently torn, paralysing me as utterly as I was in Snow Veil Sanctum. _Except this time, my heart is paralysed too._

'Brynjolf,' I whisper, tears suddenly forming in my eyes and my heart thudding hard with the realisation that it is his body behind mine, that he is near me.

_And holding a dagger to my throat._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and thank you to those readers who always leave comments, I appreciate it very very much <3
> 
> I promise there'll be a lot more going on next chapter, as you can probably gather from where Wren is heading. Sorry if this one wasn't so exciting. This was originally going to be two chapters (well, including the upcoming Brynjolf scene) but as you've just read, there's not a whole lot of action and I figured it was better to do one monster 16k+ chapter of uninteresting dialogue/set up rather than two smaller chapters of uninteresting dialogue/set up – but I'd be interested whether you guys would rather have smaller (I suppose then they would be also be more frequent) updates, even if they're not as interesting? I don't actually know which I would prefer. I mean, I could in theory have done separate chapters at every line break in this chapter, but it just felt like it flowed better as one huge chapter seeing as there wasn't much action happening in each scene. In any case, sorry if it's not so interesting this update! Also fuck going to Winterhold. Wren's had enough of the cold. And Markarth can also fuck off. The thought of even having to write anything Dwemer related makes me want to throw up. So yes, you can safely assume that Wren will be avoiding any and all Dwarven ruins. And that TG journal fetch quest makes no sense so I was always going to avoid that. Make a rubbing off this carving and suddenly we can translate this whole journal... *sigh* 
> 
> Also, minor update on my sanity. Please forgive me, but going forward it may become more likely that I update every other week - although I know this won't be a massive change really as I don't always stick to posting every week without fail anyway! I will certainly still be aiming for weekly updates so I'm hoping that there will actually be very little change going forward, but I'm not in the greatest mindset at the best of times and I'm just forewarning you in case things slow down occasionally. But like I say, I'm not intending for that to happen, as this story and writing in general keeps me going a lot of the time, as do your lovely comments, for which I am eternally grateful <3
> 
> PS. I re-edited the last section of the last chapter. Sorry it was so shit. God that was some fucking horrendous writing, I am actually cringing and I'm so sorry that any of you read that shit... 'staring at the darkness spreading over my immobile body through the darkness'... ughhh kill me and my fluey brain, I should not attempt to write or edit late at night when I am half dead myself. It is corrected and hopefully far more readable now.


	22. Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please consider this a warning for the second half of this chapter. You know where Wren is heading and it won't be a particularly pleasant experience. Tread with caution, lovelies.

'Brynjolf-' I start to say again, my voice faint and my heart fluttering painfully as I try to find the words to explain, my mind refusing to comprehend the dagger against my throat and who is holding it there.

'I said give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you right now.' Brynjolf's voice is hard and cold enough to freeze my heart tight in my chest. 'You were working against us this whole time, conspiring with the woman who murdered Gallus and has tried to break apart the Guild ever since.'

'No,' I say quickly, the nerves in my stomach knotting tight at his harsh words. 'Whatever Mercer has told you is a lie. Karliah didn't kill Gallus-'

'Fuck Karliah, I'm talking about you.' Brynjolf's hand grips tighter at my shoulder, although some distant part of me registers that the flat of his blade does not press any harder against my throat, despite the viciousness of his voice. 'Just why have you come back here, Wren? Didn't you take enough from the Guild when you left the last time?'

'I didn't take anything!' I insist desperately, as the magelight lantern behind us flickers and throws the passageway into darkness again. 'I swear, I've never stolen anything from-'

'Then why was our vault emptied right before you took off for your contract?' Brynjolf interrupts coldly. 'How convenient you didn't want me to tell anyone where you were going.'

'Because Mercer told me not to tell anyone!' I say, panic setting fiercely in my heart when I realise how believable I have made Mercer's lies. 'He set me up, just like he set Karliah up five years ago. He's been the one stealing from the Guild and he's the one who killed Gallus. Karliah and I are both innocent-'

'You and Karliah?' the thief echoes, icy sarcasm dripping in his voice. He makes a quiet laugh, but the sound is harsh and bitter and nothing like the normal easy laugh that I remember. 'Aye, you two are exactly the same, aren't you? Mercer's little bird and Gallus' little nightingale, both spreading your fucking legs for Guildmasters and trying to destroy the Guild you supposedly belong to.'

The quiet venom in his words cuts deep into me, wounding me worse than the dagger ever could, and although the magelight abruptly flares back into life, my vision seems to blur as I feel painful hot tears rise behind my eyes and choke in my throat, every beat of my heart seeming to hurt even more than the last.

'This is all Mercer's doing,' I manage to say eventually, my voice weak as I fight back the tears and the frightened flush that rises in my cheeks and neck. 'I'd never do what he has claimed. Please, Brynjolf, you know that I wouldn't-'

'I know that?' Brynjolf repeats, and the bitter pain in his voice silences whatever words I might have been about to speak. 'Let's be honest, I don't know you at all, _Wren_.'

His voice curls over my name, the short word reminding me of the first lie I ever told him, and I can only stand limp and helpless as I suddenly recall the night we met, the night I killed Grelod and left my old life behind to join the Guild. _When he found the carving knife in my satchel, Brynjolf promised that he wouldn't turn me in to the guards,_ I remember, reliving the way my frightened heart had fluttered at his half-smile and how I knew in just those first few days that I would fall for him, in a way I did not want to acknowledge, how I knew I wanted him despite the painful past I was running from and the unknown future I was running towards. _And in my own stupidity, all I did was run faster towards something that would hurt me just as severely as I was hurt before._

Numbed and afraid, I do not move when Brynjolf releases me abruptly and steps away. The sharp sigh of his dagger slipping back into its sheathe does little to reassure me, my pathetic heart fearing his words more than the dagger. _He really believes Mercer's lies._ The truth hurts as much as I knew it would, and I turn around slowly to face him, frightened to see him and to hear him speak any further, and yet I find myself more terrified that he will vanish into the shadows and that the last thing I will know of him will be the cold laugh and the cold words and the dagger against my throat.

Despite its fragility, my pathetic heart still flutters with familiarly warm nerves when I turn around to find Brynjolf standing only a few feet away from me, with his arms folded in front of his body, his auburn hair tied back carelessly and an unkempt stubble shadowing heavily over his jaw. To my heart's distress, as my eyes race eagerly over him and take in what must be their last sight of him, the lantern further down the passageway sputters and dies, throwing us into darkness once again and leaving Brynjolf as nothing more than a vague shadow to my weak eyes.

 _It's better I can't see him,_ I think, for once willing my sight not to adjust to the lack of light, glad to be as blind as I was in Snow Veil Sanctum. _If only I was as numb as I was then too._

Instinctively, my hands rise to my neck and my fingers touch my throat gingerly, the wound throbbing painfully with my heightened heart rate, although some quiet part of me registers that Brynjolf barely touched the flat of the blade to my skin. _But he still held_ _it_ _to my throat._ _He still said to give him one reason not to kill me now._

'You really think I did it?' I whisper, regretting the words as soon as I speak them, feeling the panicked tears rise behind my eyes again when I hear my voice and my question aloud. _I don't want his answer,_ _as_ _I know it already._

Brynjolf's silence is enough, and I quickly take my hands from my neck, not wanting to feel the wound Mercer left there and be reminded of my own stupidity. I wrap my arms around my body, not sure what to say or even how to speak, simply trying my best to force the tears back inside me, not wanting to cry in front of him. _It's one thing being bitterly aware of my failings. I don't want anyone else to know them too._

When the thief finally speaks, the words are quiet and rushed. 'All those times, I asked myself why-' Brynjolf stops abruptly before the words even form a sentence, and when he speaks again, his voice is hard and cold once more. 'It makes sense now why you were fucking him. You wanted to get close to the Guildmaster, to get his guard down.'

I stare at the shadowy shape of him through the darkness. 'Is that what he said?' Despite everything, I suddenly feel the twisted urge to laugh with the thought of Mercer claiming such a thing. 'That's the furthest thing from the truth. However little you think you know me, Brynjolf, you at least know that much.'

'Do I?' he replies swiftly. 'I'd rather believe that than any other reason why you would go near him.'

'I don't-' I stop, not sure how to explain, remembering the last time I stood before Brynjolf in a passageway like this one and he confronted me about Mercer.

 _He told me Mercer would hurt me, and I told him I'd be fucking crazy to trust either one of them,_ I remember, before I recall where I spent that night, and whose bed I slept in every night for a week, and the things I did there.

'I didn't want to ever go near him,' I say eventually, suddenly glad for the darkness that hides the awkward blush in my cheeks, not wanting to think about any of my encounters with the Guildmaster. 'It just happened. I broke into his room for something and then he found me and he-'

'Don't,' Brynjolf says shortly. 'I've heard enough. And what the fuck were you doing _breaking into his room?_ Didn't you just fucking say you'd never stolen from the Guild?'

His anger sparked once more, I feel my own frustration rising suddenly, my hurt and fear and regret mingling with the abrupt realisation of why I am even in this passageway in the first place. _We stand here arguing over my supposed treachery while Sapphire is_ _in Mercer's house._

'Well, I don't care what you believe,' I say as coldly as I can, although I know my words are a lie. 'I'm not part of the Guild anymore, so it doesn't matter if you hate me just like everyone else does.'

'Hate you?' Brynjolf repeats, his voice harsh. 'Fucking gods, Wren, you really have no idea, do you?'

The magelight suddenly flares into life once more and my heart lurches to see him properly at last. _He looks like I feel,_ I think, noticing the deep shadows under the thief's eyes and the furrowing of his brow, his eyes bitterly dark and his mouth a hard line that makes my heart drop rather than flutter. _It's hurts more than I expected to see him look at me like this,_ I realise, my stomach hollow and my heart the same.

Something changes in Brynjolf's expression in those brief silent moments we stand looking at each other in the light, and although I cannot read what emotion is in his eyes, I see well enough the deeper frown that creases his brow as his gaze flickers down to the barely-healed scar at my neck, and with a jolt I remember just how the wound was inflicted. _Mercer did this, all of it, and I am the only one to blame_ _for letting it happen_ _,_ I think, before I realise I would prefer to fill the hollowness inside me with anger rather than any more pain. _And standing here begging Brynjolf to_ _trust_ _me is too painful._

'You seem surprised,' I say icily, gesturing carelessly to my neck. 'Didn't Mercer tell you he cut my throat? I thought you believed everything he said.'

Brynjolf's eyes flicker back up to mine, and as quickly as it changed, his expression vanishes behind a cold mask, his jaw set hard and his eyes the same. 'Why are you here, Wren?' he asks flatly. 'Mercer will know you're in Riften. He'll kill you. The whole Guild will kill you.'

For a brief foolish moment, my heart skips with a pathetic relief at his words, before my mind catches up. _Brynjolf didn't say he'd kill me, but he's the one who held a dagger to my throat, and he is part of the Guild._

'I thought I was dead when Karliah took me prisoner,' I tell him, my heart cold and my words no different. 'I thought I was dead when Mercer left me bleeding out in that ruin. I'm used to the idea now, Brynjolf, so I really don't give a fuck what you and the rest of the Guild will do to me if you get the chance. But I'm not letting Mercer hurt-'

I stop myself, realising that if Brynjolf truly believes that I am a traitor, he will not help me to rescue Sapphire, and that confessing my intentions to him is only a foolish waste of time. _And I've wasted enough time._

'Look, whether you believe me or not, I'm not here to steal from the Guild or _spread my fucking legs_ for any more Guildmasters,' I say bitterly. 'My business has nothing to do with you, all right? So I think we're done here.'

I turn around and stride towards the ladder at the end of the passageway, my boots slipping on the mossy stone with my haste and my shaking legs, but I have barely taken three steps before I feel quick strong hands grab my waist and stop me in my tracks. Brynjolf pulls me back to him and shoves me up against the wall, pinning me there with ease, one arm across my chest and the other still gripping my waist.

'I didn't say you could go,' he says sharply as I gasp at the impact. 'Do you think this is a game, Wren? That you can just walk back into Riften like nothing's wrong?'

'I'm not playing any games,' I say just as viciously, struggling to free myself, but his hold is no less unyielding than Mercer's and I know I am going nowhere. 'I don't give a fuck if you think I'm a traitor or a whore or anything else, I need to get into the city and you're not going to stop me.'

'I think I'm stopping you right now.' Brynjolf looks down at me, the magelight catching the fire flashing in his eyes. 'Why the fuck are you here? Our vault's empty, you know, so you and Karliah are wasting your time if you're planning to rob us tonight.'

'I don't give a fuck about the Guild or Karliah!' I snap, unable to control the shrillness in my voice or my frustration as the words tumble from my mouth. 'I don't even give a fuck about making Mercer pay or getting to Astrid. Look, you can all kill me in whatever painful and horrific way you like later, but I have to get into Riften now and I don't have time to get through the main gates. Please, I can't let-'

My words die in my throat as my heart clenches tight with the realisation that I have caused all of this, that I have earned Brynjolf's reaction, that I have led Sapphire to put herself in danger. _And if Mercer hurts her because of me, I might as well cut my own throat._

'Please let me go,' I say before Brynjolf can speak, trying to soften the edge in my voice, remembering how begging was one of the few ways I could persuade Mercer to give me what I wanted. _Except when I begged Mercer, I_ _usually_ _had to get on my knees and suck his cock, and what I usually wanted was precisely that part of him._

With that thought, I feel an unexpected flush of heat flash through me that I know has little to do to with my fear or frustration, and I suddenly realise how close Brynjolf's body is to mine, how painfully fast my heart races with his proximity and the violent anger radiating from him, how the magelight dances over his face and gleams in the vicious fire of his emerald eyes as he looks down at me. _How it felt the last time I was this close to him, in a darkened alley, with his hands on me_ _and his mouth biting my neck_ _._

Before I can think of what I am doing and before Brynjolf can respond to my plea, my body acts of its own accord and I lean forward against the barrier of Brynjolf's arm across my chest, rising onto my toes and pressing my mouth to his in a clumsy desperate kiss. The contact of our lips is brief and awkward, my nerves getting the better of me and pulling me away from his mouth after only the barest moment, suddenly afraid and regretting my impulsive action, knowing that this might be the last time I see him but well aware that kissing him is the last thing I should be doing at this moment.

'Please,' I start faintly, not sure what I am begging for and unable to read the sudden darkening of Brynjolf's eyes - but I find it does not matter anyway, for he cuts me off before I can speak further.

'Be quiet,' he says, his voice hard and broken and unlike his own. _Almost like he sounded in the alley when he kissed me,_ I remember, but I do not need to relive the vivid memory, as a moment later Brynjolf takes his arm away from my chest and leans down to bring his mouth to mine hard, not waiting for my stunned body's response as his lips push apart my own and his tongue finds mine.

It is only a moment before my body reconnects with my mind enough to respond as it has always wanted to, and I open my mouth wider and lick back at Brynjolf's tongue with my own, my hands reaching up to grasp at his neck and draw him down closer to me as fierce desire flares through every inch of me. I feel his hand at the back of my head before Brynjolf pulls my hood back sharply and a rush of cool air hits my flushed cheeks; his fingers run through my curls before his hand buries tight in my hair and he tilts my head to the side, holding me at an angle to better reach my mouth.

As his tongue laps deeper against mine, warmth floods violently between my legs, my body suddenly alight for what it has always wanted. _Him, near me, with me, inside me._ My arms snake tight around Brynjolf's neck and pull him closer, my body arching away from the wall to press against him as I desperately try to swallow the wetness in my mouth and draw breath and kiss him as fervently as I can all at once. The result is a messy gasping tangle but Brynjolf seems to care as little for form or technique as I do in those moments, kissing me as hard and deep as our lips and tongues allow. The needy ache between my legs only heightens with the keen wet sound of our mouths, as loud as the violent thudding of my heart beating too fast and too hard. _I can't breathe,_ _but_ _I'd give him my last breath._

I whimper against Brynjolf's mouth, begging him both for air and for him not to stop, and a second later he breaks apart just enough for me to draw a desperate unsteady breath, my cheeks flushed and my legs shaking.

'Gods, don't make that sound,' the thief murmurs, his voice little more than a growl, his lips still brushing against mine as his chest rises and falls with his own shortened breathing. 'I'm not going to be able to let you go if you make that sound.'

Uncontrollably, another quiet whimper escapes my parted sore lips, my body seeking to provoke him and wanting nothing more than for him not to let me go, and I hear Brynjolf make a hitched groan of frustration before his mouth covers mine again. The sound only makes my skin burn hotter, and I close my eyes and lose myself willingly in his kiss, distantly aware of his hand at my waist moving up my body to the fastenings of my jacket while his other hand unknots from my hair and starts to make the same journey, and I realise I want it as badly as I did the first time he kissed me, the first time I understood what that desperate aching feeling inside me meant. _I want him to fuck me, here, now._

As his fingers run down my throat towards my jacket collar, sharp pain cuts through my pleasure and I gasp loudly against the thief's mouth, only needing one bitter moment to recall exactly why his touch suddenly hurts. _Mercer's mark,_ I think, before my heart twists more viciously as I recall what else Mercer Frey has done, and with a terrible sense of realisation, I know I can no longer ignore why I came here in the first place. _He cut my throat, but he could be doing worse to Sapphire at this very moment._

Oblivious to my realisation but seeming to hear well enough my gasping sound of pain at his touch, Brynjolf breaks away as my eyes snap open, and I quickly discover that the flickering magelight must have died at some point during the precious few moments we were entangled; when I look up at Brynjolf, his mouth still only inches from mine, I can barely make out his face through the darkness.

'Wren,' he starts, his voice low, his hands slipping down to my waist and holding my body close to his.

'You have to let me go,' I whisper before he can continue, my lips wet and aching for him to kiss me again but no part of me wanting to imagine what Sapphire might be suffering while I stand in Brynjolf's arms.

_While I kiss him, Mercer could be breaking her in every way he knows._

'Please,' I say quickly, letting my arms slip down from around his neck, desperately trying to ignore the warm tight feeling in my body and the quiet voice inside me that begs not to let him go. 'I know you don't trust me, but please, I have to get into the city before it's too late. I won't come back and I won't interfere with the Guild's business, I swear. Just let me into Riften now.'

Brynjolf does not speak for several seconds, still holding my body against his, and I start to wish for the magelight to spark into life once again so that I might read the look in his eyes. _But maybe I don't want to,_ I think, realising his shoulders are still and his breathing steady, and what expression I can see on his face through the shadows is as impassive and unreadable as the darkness around us.

Suddenly I hear him sigh softly, and whatever furious emotion drove him to return my kiss seems to fade, the violent fire of his words and tongue doused by something cold and resigned.

'You're the one reason, lass,' he says, so quietly I barely hear, and before I can process what his words mean, he releases me abruptly and steps back. 'You can go where you like,' he tells me, his voice harder. 'But I suggest you don't come back to Riften once you've finished whatever business you have here. Mercer will kill you.'

I blink, almost expecting him not to yield to my request and to instead hand me over to Mercer himself. 'I know he will,' I say, well aware of the Guildmaster's capabilities and not needing to be reminded. 'And thank you,' I add hesitantly, but my gratitude is met with only silence.

Despite his consent to let me pass, I find myself unable to move, and we stand wordlessly in the darkness for a few seconds. Although the steady dripping of water echoes further down the passageway, all I hear in my mind is the sound of Brynjolf's quiet groan of frustration, the sound of our kiss and his mouth on mine, the sound of my heart thudding and my blood coursing hot through my body. _It still is,_ I think, and in the silence I suddenly become keenly aware of the blood throbbing in my lips, at my neck, between my legs. With the thought, my thigh muscles tighten on reflex and my breath catches in my throat as I realise how wet I am just from his kiss.

'I thought you were in a hurry,' Brynjolf says, mercifully unaware of the realisation running through my mind and the way my cheeks flush with burning heat at my body's reaction.

_And I have to ignore it too._

Although part of me would rather ask him to rip my clothes from my body and take me here against the wall instead of letting me go, I do not say anything more as I turn around and walk unsteadily to the end of the passageway. _I know which part of me wants him, and that part of me almost got me killed at Mercer's hands._

Although I manage to push aside the reaction of my body easily enough, I find the thought of what Mercer has done too difficult to ignore, and before I reach for the ladder, I turn back to Brynjolf, unable to stop myself.

'Whatever happens, promise me that you'll be careful with Mercer,' I whisper, barely seeing him through the shadows, the darkness between us too heavy and too absolute. 'He killed Gallus and he'll try to kill you if you get in his way. I don't want-' I stop myself, knowing how pointless it would be to tell him everything I want. 'Please just be careful, Brynjolf.'

I do not wait for his answer, knowing I cannot persuade him to believe me or to take my warning seriously, and I quickly turn around and start to climb the ladder, forcing my mind to empty itself of any memory of the last few minutes.

 _And thinking about_ _Mercer discovering_ _Sapphire_ _in hi_ _s house accomplishes that well enough._

My hands are shaking a minute later as I pull myself up the ladder and into the abandoned hovel. When I step outside into the alley and breathe in the familiar wet and wooden smell of Riften, I feel a strange fluttering in my stomach, finding myself more relieved to be back here than I expected. As swiftly as I shut down my body's reaction to Brynjolf, I quickly harden my heart with the knowledge that Riften is the most dangerous place in Skyrim for me and I will not be lingering here any longer than necessary, and I hurry towards the city centre with the intent of asking the first person I happen upon where I can find the Black-Briar mansion. The two men I come across in an alley are fortunately too drunk to pose much of a threat, and after making a few choice comments regarding the parts of their bodies they'd rather direct me to find, they eventually tell me the way to a street not far from Mistveil Keep and I stride away before giving them a chance to say another word.

Although the rain has eased off, I pull up my hood as I make my way through the city, my panicked nerves rising with every hurried step _. She'll be safe, it won't be as bad as I'm imagining,_ I tell myself, although the thought does little to reassure me when I know how far the Guildmaster enjoys punishing those who wrong him. My heart is racing by the time I find myself on a quiet brightly lit residential street, grand and expensive and similar to the one Mercer once led me down on a Guild job for Maven. _When he put me to task,_ I think, before I push the memory aside and look around, trying not to seem too conspicuous as a guard walks past me down the wide mosaicked walkway. Only five houses line the street, two large wood and stone mansions on either side, with a single dominating structure set back behind gates at the end of the street. _The Black-Briar mansion,_ I assume as I walk slowly down the road, quickly noting that of the other four houses, only the second on the right is seemingly vacant, with drapes drawn behind the glass windows and no hint of light escaping from within. Although there are no weeds growing through the plaza courtyard leading up to front door and the house appears to be in impeccable condition, there is a distinct air of abandonment about the place. _Just l_ _ike Mercer's house in Windhelm._

I cross the street and approach the front door cautiously, my heart skipping when I read the faded wooden plaque beside the door and realise that I am standing in front of Riftweald.

Despite Karliah's claims, the house is apparently unguarded, as I see no one in the vicinity besides a couple of brawny men guarding the Black-Briar mansion further down the street, and when I tentatively try the front door, I find it unlocked. _Karliah said it would be a trap,_ I think, feeling a shiver of unease pass down my spine as it did in Snow Veil Sanctum but knowing it is too late to turn back now. _If Sapphire is in there, then I'm going in there too._

Inside, the house is bathed in shadow, although a little of the bright torchlight from the street seeps in from between the heavy curtains. I close the door behind me gently and stand still as my eyes adjust to the semi-darkness, listening for any sound and quickly discovering that the house appears to be deserted. _But he could be hiding in the shadows,_ I think, and I push back my hood and draw my daggers as quietly as I can, straining my ears to hear any sound but still hearing only silence, and my mind suddenly recalls how it felt to be blindfolded in his bed. _He was right next to me, close enough to put a dagger on my bare stomach, but it was like he wasn't even there._

With my heart thudding loud enough to surely alert anyone nearby to my presence, I search the house as thoroughly and quickly as I can, forcing myself not to jump at every shadow and to keep my daggers poised as I ease open the doors and peer around corners. Although the house sprawls over three floors, it is largely empty of furnishings and clutter, and it's not long before I am certain that I have looked in every sparsely decorated room of the house and found no sign of Sapphire or Mercer.

I return to the ground floor entrance hall and hesitate at the door, relieved that I have not found the raven-haired thief here at the Guildmaster's mercy and starting to wonder if Rune was mistaken, considering the possibility that maybe she thought better of her plan to infiltrate Mercer's house and she is back at the Cistern now. _Unless I am too late and Mercer's already had his amusement before disposing of what was left of her._

The thought sends a chill down my spine. _I should've told Brynjolf, I should've asked him to help me or at least asked him if he'd seen her or Mercer tonight,_ I think, and I am just about to leave Riftweald with the intention of marching to the Cistern to see if Sapphire is there - and if not, to demand that the guildmembers help me find her - when I suddenly hear a faint whimper from somewhere beneath me that freezes my body in place with fear.

 _Beneath me?_ I think, confused as I look around, until I hear the noise again a second later, another cry of a woman distinctly in pain, and I realise with a frightened lurching in my stomach that I may not have searched Mercer's house as thoroughly as I thought.

My heart clenched tight in my chest, I turn my gaze down and strain my eyes through the darkness as I hurry through the ground floor rooms again, kicking and tearing aside what few rugs and pieces of furniture there are, desperately searching for a way down to whatever awaits me below. When I re-enter the study, I notice that the corner of the rug is pulled back a little at the corner, and I drop to one knee and wrench back the rug further, revealing a large solid metal trapdoor cut into the wooden floorboards.

Clutching my daggers tightly and doing my best to steady both my heart and my shaking arms, I lift open the trapdoor to find a steep set of spiralling stairs leading down. Light flickers somewhere below, and I draw a deep breath before I descend.

The steps wind down to a stone walled, low-ceilinged cellar, with light flickering uneasily from half a dozen candles resting on a table immediately before me when I step off the stairs. As my eyes are drawn instinctively towards the source of light, I notice the items lined up on the table: a leather satchel, several potions, strips of leather and an array of chains and shackles, among a few other metal objects, the purpose of which I can only guess. I swallow, feeling the blood throbbing in my neck, before I see movement in the corner of my eye and I turn to my head sharply to the right hand side of the cellar.

Stripped bare, Sapphire's naked body slumps limp against the wall, held standing upright only by the chains shackling her wrists to the wall either side of her head. Her dark hair tumbles in tangles over her shoulders, her milk-pale skin and slender limbs almost glowing in the candlelight. I see purple bruises flawing the white skin of her hips and stomach, and two fresher red stings on each of her thighs. When Sapphire slowly raises her head as if she senses my presence, I realise that a small sharp-edged metal block is lodged in her mouth, the device buckled with leather straps around her head.

At the sight of her gagged and bound and bruised, something cuts deep in my chest, turning me hot and cold at once, my body burning with fury as ice cold fear crawls down my back with the realisation that I have led her to this, and as I look at Sapphire and what I have caused to happen, I completely forget my intention to keep my daggers drawn and my senses sharp.

'Sapphire!' I race across the room towards her, my heart twisting painfully as I sheathe my daggers at my thighs and reach out for her, my hands flying over her hair and head. 'It's all right, I'll-'

Sapphire makes a moaning sound behind the gag as I loosen the buckle at the back of her head, trying to keep my hands steady and not pull on her hair.

'It's all right, you're all right,' I say quickly, trying convince myself as well as her, as I ease the gag from her mouth before throwing the device to the ground.

She splutters to draw breath, her lips swollen and sore from where the metal gag has dug into her delicate skin. 'Wren...' she starts groggily, struggling weakly against her binds, but as I reach up and give one sharp tug on the chains, I realise they are not coming loose from the wall.

'Where did he put your clothes? Have you got lockpicks?' I ask, panicking for a brief moment that I have none of my own to free her before it hits me that my hands are far too unsteady to pick any locks anyway. 'Is there-'

'You fucking idiot,' Sapphire moans, her voice hoarse. 'Leave-'

'If you think I'm leaving you here, you're the fucking idiot,' I snap as I scan the room desperately for some way to break her free, seeing nothing in the cellar but the table and wondering if one of the implements there could be used to rip the chains from the wall or pry the locks of the binds open. _Except the tools there are probably better equipped for manipulating flesh, not iron_ _chains_ _,_ I realise with another sickening lurch in my stomach before I look back at Sapphire. 'Is there a key to the shackles?' I ask, knowing that Mercer must have shown it to her, knowing he would want me to try to find it. 'Has he hidden it somewhere in the house?'

'Just fucking _leave,'_ she says again, her voice growing stronger as she struggles harder against her binds. 'Wren-'

'Where is the key?' I say, my own tone sharper with my rising panic. 'Tell me-'

'Now you're starting to sound like Karliah,' a familiar voice behind me says, sending an icy shiver over every inch of my skin. 'I'm disappointed, little bird.'

Before I can reach down to my thighs for my daggers and turn around, I feel the tip of a blade touch the side of my neck and my body freezes where I stand, my throat twinging painfully with the contact, as if my skin recognises the man who tore it apart.

'Now let's not make this difficult,' Mercer says from behind me, his voice quiet and distinctly amused. 'Leave your little knives alone, move back from Sapphire and we'll talk, shall we?'

I stay where I am, preferring that he tear my throat apart again before I leave Sapphire tied up naked anywhere near him, but Mercer steps forward to stand beside me, drawing his other dagger in his left hand and raising the golden blade to the raven-haired thief's exposed breast.

'I said move away, or we'll play a game called _which little slut bleeds first,'_ Mercer says, his hands flexing around the handles of his daggers as he holds a blade against each of us. 'Such a pretty gem, isn't she? I wonder whether that delicate skin will tear as easily as yours did.'

My heart flutters fiercely as I hold my ground, not wanting to yield to him or distance myself from Sapphire, but when I see Mercer twist the dagger a little and blood suddenly rises in small scarlet droplets on the whiteness of her breast, Sapphire's sharp gasp of pain pushes all thought of resistance out of my mind.

'Don't hurt her,' I say desperately, backing away a few steps out of his range and away from Sapphire as he commanded. 'Please, stop it!'

Mercer makes a quiet laugh as he runs the blood-dripped flat of his blade over her breast slowly, smearing the scarlet over her skin. 'Drop your little daggers on the floor and maybe I'll stop hurting her,' he says.

'Don't fucking do it,' Sapphire spits viciously, fighting against the chains holding her wrists to the wall. 'Wren, don't-'

Her words are lost beneath her anguished cry as Mercer draws the tip of his dagger across her breast in a quick flash, the fresh blood spilling forth just as fast.

I wrench my silver dagger and Karliah's glass blade from my thighs and drop them both on the floor with a loud clatter, knowing that I could never get close enough to use them on him without him hurting Sapphire first. 'Now let her go,' I say sharply. 'Please, Mercer.'

'There's no use begging, little bird, I said we were going to talk first.' Mercer lowers his dagger from Sapphire's body and wipes the blade clean on his jacket sleeve before he turns to face me. _He looks like he's slept as little as I have,_ I think, noticing the shadows and worn lines beneath his eyes, although the dark amusement in his gaze is just as dangerous as ever, and as he looks back at me, his familiar sarcastic smile pulls at his mouth. 'Or maybe the slut doesn't want to talk? Maybe she wants what she always wants, hm?'

'Let us go, you son of a bitch,' Sapphire hisses before I can reply, still trying to pull her hands loose from the shackles as the blood trickles down her stomach, the wound on her breast still seeping red. 'She's not going to fuck you and neither am I, so either let us go or just fucking kill us and be done with it.'

Mercer laughs and my heart stops when he raises his dagger to her body again, but he only brushes her hair back from her shoulders with the tip of the blade. 'Always so angry, aren't you?' he says idly. 'You'd never get on your knees and beg like Wren, would you? But you're just as stupid and predictable as she is. You know, when I set you up to get caught and thrown into jail, I didn't realise you'd make it so fucking easy. And then this-' Mercer gestures with his dagger to her bound form, his gaze moving slowly over her naked body with satisfaction. 'Well, this was even easier.'

Sapphire stops struggling and stands still as she stares at the Guildmaster. _'You_ set me up?' she says, fire flickering in her hazel eyes.

'Of course,' Mercer says, as if it should have been obvious. 'You're all as fucking predictable as each other. After I sent Brynjolf to rescue you, all I had to do was sit back and watch my little bird's heart get broken.' He takes the dagger away from her shoulders and sheathes it at his hip, although he remains holding his other dagger as he glances back at me, laughter glittering in his eyes. 'It still hurts, doesn't it? Knowing Sapphire had him first, and more times than you can imagine? It probably hurts you just as much as it hurts him knowing that I fucked you first.' He makes a quick harsh laugh. 'And better than he ever could.'

'You fucking bastard!' Sapphire tries to lash out with her bare foot to level a kick at his groin, but Mercer catches her ankle with his free hand almost lazily and pulls her leg wider apart before he steps forward to stand closer between her parted legs, holding her easily as she struggles to free herself.

'You said you wouldn't fuck me, Sapphire, but you seem to forget I could take you right now,' Mercer says lightly, and he runs his golden dagger up her exposed inner thigh, and she freezes at the contact. 'Or maybe you don't want my cock and you want this inside you instead?'

'Mercer-' I start pleadingly, seeing the frightened fury in Sapphire's eyes and knowing the Guildmaster's own temper well enough. _He's right, she won't beg, but I know what her defiance will bring her._

'Settle down, Wren,' Mercer says before I can beg on her behalf. 'I'm not intending to keep her here much longer. She's not nearly as much fun to play with.' He releases his hold on Sapphire and steps back, turning around to face me. 'So let's talk about your options. I can kill her, or I can make a deal with you, little bird. Which would you rather?'

'Wren, don't-' Sapphire starts, but suddenly Mercer brings the back of his free hand hard across her face and she cries out in pain, the chains clanking as she recoils from his hand.

'Stop it!' I shout at him, starting forward until he points his dagger at my neck again and I stop in my tracks. 'Don't fucking hurt her!'

Mercer smirks, the candlelight catching the laughter in his eyes at my distress. 'Then you want the deal, I assume.'

'What deal?' I say sharply.

The Guildmaster inclines his head as he lowers his dagger and his dark eyes flicker over my body. 'Since I'm feeling obliging, I'll make it easy for you,' he says. 'If you get on your knees and put that mouth of yours to work for me, I'll let Sapphire go.'

I stare at him, an uncomfortable shiver crawling down my back with his words and yet barely believing that he would offer a deal so easy for me to accept. _How many times have I done it before?_ I think, sickened by the thought and yet curiously relieved that he is not asking for more.

'If I do that, you'll free her?' I say slowly.

'Wren,' Sapphire starts again, her cheek inflamed red from the strength of Mercer's hand and her eyes like thunder, but Mercer talks over her.

'I suppose I could let her go,' he says, toying with the dagger in his hands idly.

'Either you will or you wont,' I say bluntly, not wanting to play his game any longer.

Mercer snorts with laughter. 'You've definitely been spending too much time with the Dunmer bitch,' he says. 'Fine, yes, I'll release Sapphire once you've earned it, provided your mouth is as good as it once was. But are you sure you want to do that, little bird? Isn't your throat still sore from our last meeting?'

The laughter in his voice and the memory makes the wound at my neck twinge with pain, as if it knows how much it will hurt to have him in my mouth and throat. _But this is my fault, and however badly it hurts, I know I'll do anything to get us out of here alive._

'If you let her go, I will do it,' I say to him.

'Don't be stupid,' Sapphire says sharply. 'Wren-'

'You're wasting your breath,' Mercer says lightly to her. 'Wren has always been determined to be as stupid as possible. She'd prefer having a good hard fuck over any common sense, wouldn't you, little bird?'

'She's not as stupid as you,' Sapphire hisses. 'If you think you'll get away with this, you're a fucking-'

'And you're testing my patience now,' Mercer says, sheathing his dagger with a sharp snap and reaching down to pick up the gag from the floor. 'I'd rather have only one little whore's mouth open at once.'

'Don't-' Sapphire starts, but with her hands bound, she is powerless to stop him from forcing the gag back into her mouth and swiftly buckling the straps around the back of her head.

My heart clenches tight as I hear her whimper in pain at the pressure of the sharp metal edges of the gag. As Mercer steps back from the raven-haired thief and turns to look at me with a small smirk of victory at his mouth, I stare back at him silently, my skin burning with fury and fear, longing for some way to bring him as much pain as possible and yet feeling a cold chill clawing down my spine when I realise that I am helpless against him and his will.

'Well, get on with it then.' Mercer inclines his head, looking at me expectantly. 'I thought you wanted Sapphire freed sometime tonight?'

I feel my cheeks flush red with the realisation that he wants me to pleasure him here in Sapphire's presence. _He could want worse,_ I remind myself, knowing that the Guildmaster is more than capable of thinking of far worse ways for me to humiliate myself in front of Sapphire. _And if this is what he wants for her freedom, I will pay the price._

My legs unsteady, I walk forward and drop to my knees before him, reaching up with shaking hands to unfasten his trousers, my fingers fumbling more clumsily than ever as I hear Sapphire's sound of protest behind the gag, which only makes Mercer laugh.

'I really should've gagged you the moment Brynjolf brought you to the Guild,' Mercer says over my head to Sapphire. 'You sound far better with something in your mouth. Just like my little bird.' He laughs softly again as his hands touch my hair, stroking my curls. 'I think she'd spend all her time on her knees with my cock in her mouth if she could. Wouldn't you, Wren?'

I do not respond to his taunt, my nervous hands still struggling with the task of his trouser fastenings, before a sudden thought hits me and I realise that my fingers are only inches away from Mercer's sharp golden daggers sheathed at his hips. _I only need to draw one and bury it in his stomach,_ I think, my heart skipping in my chest, deliberating for only a second. _Bury it in his stomach, then his chest, and his neck._

In the fraction of a moment as my right hand starts to move towards the sheathe, Mercer's own hands grasp tightly in my hair and he jerks my head back abruptly, the sharp movement making me gasp in pain as he forces me to look up at him.

'You trying and failing to kill me is not part of the deal, little bird,' he murmurs, his dark eyes glinting dangerously. 'Although, I suppose it would be entertaining to watch you try.' He inclines his head, not blinking as he looks down at me. 'Go on, reach for the dagger. Let's see which of us gets there first.'

Although my hands are close to his hips while his own hands are knotted tight in my hair, it is only a moment before I realise who would reach the dagger first. _My fingers would slip, the dagger wouldn't draw from the sheathe, he'd have the blade against my throat before I could get away,_ I think with despair, knowing that I am neither quick nor strong enough to best Mercer. _There's only one thing I am good for_.

I finish unfastening the Guildmaster's trousers as his hold on my hair relaxes a little. I pull down the material to free his cock, finding that he is already hard, no doubt having drawn considerable satisfaction from the compromising position in which he has both me and Sapphire. _Along with the fact that he could kill either of us at any moment he chooses,_ I think, knowing well enough by now that Mercer enjoys power more than anything I could ever do with my mouth or any other part of me.

I force myself to ignore Sapphire's gagged whine of anger as I take him in hand and open my mouth, taking him in slowly as I lick over his cock, my mouth dry with my fear and reluctance. _I swore I'd never be on my knees before him again, yet here I am, because I am too weak to save Sapphire or myself by any other means._

As if he hears my thoughts, Mercer makes a quiet laugh and suddenly jerks my head closer as he thrusts himself deep down my throat, the pain searing more violently than ever before, and I cry out loudly, although his cock muffles the sound in my mouth.

'And I should've fucked your throat the moment Brynjolf brought _you_ to the Guild,' Mercer murmurs, his fingers knotting tightly in my hair again to make me whimper louder with the pain. 'It's all you're good for, isn't it? You know that by now. Maybe Brynjolf will realise that one day too.'

I ignore him, not wanting to think about Brynjolf, not wanting to think about Sapphire watching my humiliation, not wanting to think about Mercer's words and how he only confirmed the truth that I have already arrived upon. I feel a twisted sense of relief that I am unable to think about anything except the pain burning fiercely in my neck as Mercer jerks my head back and forth, his cock pressing hard against the back of my throat with every quick rough thrust he gives me.

I clutch weakly at his legs, closing my eyes tight and trying to contain my sounds of pain, not wanting to give him that pleasure too, but my determined silence only makes his movements rougher in an attempt to aggravate the soreness in my throat further, and I soon cannot help giving Mercer exactly what he wants and moaning quietly with each motion of his cock in my mouth. _If this hurts, at least I was paralysed when he cut my throat,_ I force myself to think, knowing it would have hurt more, knowing that this is nothing in comparison and at least I will survive afterwards.

It is a small mercy that the Guildmaster comes quickly. After a couple of minutes and with a few rough thrusts at the back of my throat, he withdraws himself to finish over my tongue, filling my mouth with his warm pleasure as he groans his satisfaction. My throat searing, I cannot swallow even once; instead, I choke and splutter his seed back over his cock and out of my mouth, the warm wetness spilling over my chin and down onto my chest as Mercer steps back and pulls himself out from between my lips.

The moment he releases his hold on my head, I collapse down onto my hands and knees, moaning with the pain as I struggle to both gasp for breath and spit the last of him from my mouth down onto the stone ground.

I hear Mercer laugh quietly. 'Ungrateful slut,' he says as I listen to him move away to pull up his trousers. 'You don't have to pretend not to enjoy it just because we have an audience. I know you'd be lapping it up from the floor any other time.'

I raise my head at last, my cheeks flushed with his words and the forced reminder that it is not only him witnessing my performance. My gaze flickers over to Sapphire; the blood drying on her naked body and a vicious storm clouding her hazel eyes, she stares back at me silently, and I can only imagine what I must look like to her, used and debased with Mercer's pleasure dripping from my mouth. _She'd never do it. She said it herself, she'd rather he kill us than let him anywhere near her._

As I look at her, Sapphire makes a sound behind her gag, but in my pain and humiliation, I cannot discern what she is trying to say, or even whether she is afraid or furious or disgusted at what she has seen. _Or maybe she is all of those things._

I see her hazel eyes widen a fraction of a second before I suddenly feel a sharp blow to the side of my head, stunning my mind and knocking me down to the stone floor as my arms give way beneath me with the shock.

My head hits the ground hard, sending pain shooting through my skull. _Mercer,_ I think vaguely, too dazed to grasp the thought, much less force myself to remain conscious, and the last thing I hear is Sapphire's cry from behind the gag as everything around me falls away into heavy silent darkness.

 

*

 

I hear a faint scraping sound echoing somewhere in the corners of my mind, but the noise is quickly lost beneath the fierce pounding ache in my head, my mind spinning even behind my tightly closed eyes. I taste blood in my mouth, mixed with the remnants of a man's pleasure, and I try to swallow and wet my mouth to clear the taste, but the effort causes my throat to burn like fire and I can only whimper against the sharp pain that results from my efforts.

I feel hard stone pressing against my back and I think for a moment that I must be lying flat on the floor, but I soon realise that the soles of my feet are touching the ground and it dawns on me that I am standing up. _How?_ I wonder in confusion, too groggy to understand how I could be standing upright when I have been unconscious, until I feel the sharp pressure of metal at my wrists and I become aware of the keen aching in my arms as they are held above my head.

My eyes snap open as comprehension dawns painfully upon me, and my heart thuds fast with fear when I look down to realise that I am naked and chained to the wall where Sapphire was previously.

 _But if I'm here, where is she?_ I think, panic rising in me when I raise my head to scan the cellar desperately and discover that there is only one other person in the room with me.

Mercer leans against the edge of the table at the other side of the cellar, one of his golden daggers in his hand and a small stone in the other, sharpening the blade slowly as he watches me. His dark eyes catch the candlelight as a smile forms at his mouth.

'Where is she?' I say before he can speak, my voice faint and hoarse as I try to pull my wrists free from the shackles, my arms burning with their soreness. 'What have you done with her?'

'Sapphire? She left you.' Mercer's voice is quiet and low as he draws the stone down the length of his blade once more, the sharp slithering sound causing goosebumps to rise on my skin. 'I gave her the choice of sharing your fate or leaving you to me. She chose the latter.'

'You're lying,' I say, knowing that Sapphire would not leave me to die at Mercer's hands, terrified at what he must have done to her, and yet before the words have even left my mouth, a small bitter doubt starts to gnaw at the back of my mind. _She wouldn't have even been here in the first place if it wasn't for me,_ I think, suddenly catching sight of her blood on the floor at my bare feet and feeling my heart twist painfully with the memory of how Mercer cut her because of me. _I wouldn't blame her if she did leave me here to die._

'Maybe I am,' Mercer replies idly. 'Maybe I'm not. It doesn't matter, though, does it? You're here, and she's not.'

I look back up at him, my breathing seeming to slow as I feel cold fear slowly strangling my heart, and I stop fighting against the binds, my body limp and knowing it is hopeless. 'You said if I did what I did, you'd let us go,' I say faintly, my voice trembling as I feel a strange choking in my throat with my words.

'I said I'd release Sapphire, I never said anything about you.' Mercer makes a quiet laugh as he continues to draw the stone over the blade. 'You should listen closer sometimes, Wren. And don't agree to deals unless you fully understand the terms. Really, you bring all this on yourself, you know.'

The bitter tightness around in my heart clenches suddenly as the reality of the situation hits me hard, and before I can stop it, I feel frightened tears rise behind my eyes, choking my sore overworked throat. _I can't cry in front of him, I can't give him that satisfaction too,_ I tell myself desperately, trying to force the tears back, even as the truth steadily breaks down what resilience I have left _. H_ _e's right, it is my fault. I have only myself to blame for this._

I look away from Mercer and stare at the ground, but the sight of Sapphire's blood only makes me bite my lip harder and I squeeze my eyes tight, trying to stop the tears from spilling hot and bitter down my cheeks with the realisation of what I have let happen and the terrible fear that I do not know what he has done to Sapphire or what he will do to me.

 _Why should I even try to stop_ _the_ _tears_ _?_ I think, realising that it does not matter how weak I appear to the Guildmaster now, when he has won and I have lost again, when my foolish attempts to make things right have only caused me to fall harder. _And now_ _I can no longer deny_ _the fact that I am a stupid_ _little girl_ _who has brought this on herself_ _, what does that leave me with?_

A silent moment passes and I inhale a fragile shaky breath, and then before I can stop myself, I start to cry as I stand there naked and chained to the wall of Mercer's cellar.

 _And_ _there's nothing I can do._ _There never has been anything I could do_ _._

Great gasping breaths rip at the inside of my sore throat as the tears spill burning desperate and hot from my eyes, my body cold and shuddering with everything that has happened, the pains of the last few days and weeks blurring with everything that has ever happened to me in the past until I am sobbing viciously and only the chains at my wrists keep my wracked limp body from collapsing onto the floor. _My parents, Honorhall, Astrid, the Guild, Mercer, all of it has broken me into countless pieces and I don't know how to hold them all together anymore, or why I should even try._

It feels like hours but it must only be minutes before my tears stop flowing and start to dry on my face as I draw deep ragged breaths, and by the time I have finally cried myself to a gasping silence, my throat and cheeks are raw with salt tears. _Whatever_ _Mercer_ _intends to do with me, I don't care,_ I think as I try to settle my heart and mind, some broken part of me hoping that the Guildmaster will finish what he did not manage in Snow Veil Sanctum.

_But I know he won't kill me. I'm leaving here alive, just as I left those ruins alive._

The quiet realisation catches me by surprise as I choke back the last of my tears. _Of course he'd kill me,_ I answer myself, suspecting that he will take what amusement he can from me before reopening the wound at my throat and leaving me to bleed out here alone. _Like he did in Snow Veil Sanctum?_ I think, but before I can make sense of the confusion in my mind, I feel a hand touch the side of my face. My body jumps with the contact and I open my eyes wide, but my vision is blurred by my tears and I can only vaguely see the Guildmaster's face as he stands in front of me.

'I didn't realise you were that sad to say goodbye to me,' Mercer says mockingly, his thumb tracing over my cheek to wipe away my tears.

I blink desperately to clear my vision, my eyes burning with the effort, before I suddenly comprehend his words. 'Goodbye?' I echo, my voice thick and broken, and despite my decision that I would gladly die at his hands if it meant an end, I feel threads of panic tighten in my heart with the reality of what that means.

Mercer inclines his head and watches me in silence for a moment, his hand still cupping the side of my face and his thumb running lightly over my cheekbone, my skin inflamed by my tears.

'Only for now, little bird,' he says finally, his voice soft and dangerous as his hand slips down to my throat, his fingertips tracing over the crudely healed scar. 'We don't have long. I know I've already marked you once,' he murmurs as pain cuts through my throat with his touch and I have to bite my lip to silence myself. 'But I'm going to leave you something else to remember me by.'

He raises his other hand to my face, and I realise he is holding a small crystal vial filled with a pale blue liquid.

'Do you remember when you took that arrow in that gods damned ruin?' he says, his dark eyes holding mine and clearly enjoying the growing fear in my expression. 'If I had cut open your chest and shown you your beating heart, you wouldn't have felt it, would you?'

Suddenly bitterly afraid that that is what he intends to do to me now, I stay very still and do not reply as my heart flutters faster with his words.

'Answer me, Wren,' Mercer says, a flicker of impatience flashing in his eyes, and I feel his thumb press purposefully harder against the wound at my throat. 'We don't have time to play. Did you feel anything after that poisoned arrow hit you?'

'No,' I whimper, my pain and fear making my voice weak.

Evidently satisfied with my answer, Mercer raises the vial to his lips and unscrews the cap of the bottle with his teeth before spitting the lid down to the floor. 'Then open your mouth, little bird,' he says quietly as he brings the potion to my lips.

I clamp my mouth tightly shut and turn my head away from the vial, but his hand at my throat moves up to grab my chin and he turns me to face him again.

'I think you'd rather drink,' he tells me, his voice sharpening with each word. 'If you don't, I'll have to shoot a poisoned arrow at you like Karliah did, but unlike her, I won't heal the wound afterwards. So open your mouth and swallow.'

His thumb runs over my lips, parting them until resignation overwhelms me and I open my mouth as commanded. _If this truly is the same potion Karliah used on her arrow, I know I will be glad to take it, if it will make me numb for whatever comes next.  
_

The liquid Mercer tips into my mouth is frosty and tasteless, and I ignore the pain in my throat as best I can as I force myself to swallow it, praying that I will soon feel nothing at all. A moment later, Mercer tosses the bottle to the ground and steps back from me, his dark gaze flickering over my naked body while I feel a familiar numbness spread from my chest as the potion slips down inside me.

'It acts fast and won't last long,' Mercer tells me lightly as he reaches down to draw one of golden daggers from its sheathe. 'So we better get started. Where do we want it, hm?'

Before I can understand what he means, I feel a painful tingling in my toes and fingers - when I try to move my feet and hands, I find them entirely unresponsive to my commands, and I realise that the potion is indeed working as fast as Mercer said it would. Despite my relief at the prospect of not feeling whatever he intends to do to me, part of me cannot help but wonder why the Guildmaster would want to paralyse me in the first place, when he has always enjoyed hearing my agony before.

I have little time to think on it further, as the paralysis quickly takes over my body - but where Karliah's poison froze me in place, whatever potion Mercer gave me drains my body of all resistance and feeling, and a second later my head abruptly lolls down towards my chest, my gaze forced onto my limp naked body as my hair tumbles over my face.

'Here?' Mercer says softly, and his left hand brushes aside my hair so that I can watch as he raises his dagger to touch between my breasts, the contact not registering with my numb senseless body. Mercer trails the blade down to my stomach slowly. 'Or maybe here?' he murmurs, drawing the tip of his blade down to my lower stomach just below my navel. I feel his gaze flicker up to my face, and although my frozen line of sight does not allow me to see his expression, I hear the smirk in his voice well enough. 'Then the next time someone wants to fuck you, they'll know you have already been claimed.'

He takes his hand away from my hair and my loose curls fall in front of my face again, but not before I see him grasp my left hip as he poises his dagger at my lower stomach. Everything falls silent for a few moments, and with my vision limited and my unblinking eyes sore and dry from my bitter tears, I cannot see what Mercer does to me. _He could be tearing my stomach wide open,_ I think, before I realise that I cannot hear the sound of my blood and insides pouring down to the floor, and although I catch the distinct tang of my blood on the air, it is nothing like the scent of open flesh that overwhelmed me at Snow Veil Sanctum when he cut my throat apart.

Whatever he is doing, Mercer's evident skill with a blade means that it feels like only mere seconds have passed before I hear him wipe off his dagger on his sleeve and sheathe the blade at his hip once more. A moment later, I hear the soft sound of material as he pulls something from his pocket.

'Give it a minute and you'll be able to move again,' he says, before I hear him laugh softly. 'And you can feel again.' With one hand he brushes aside my hair, and with my vision unimpaired, I see Mercer's other hand holding a cloth to my stomach, the faded material steadily dyeing red. 'Do you want to see it, Wren?'

He moves the bloody cloth away and I catch sight of the wound below my navel, the blood rising eagerly from the deeply cut skin, although the size of the incision is smaller than I expected. Before I can feel the panic fluttering inside my chest, Mercer presses the rag to my skin again, stemming the blood flow. _The potion is_ _weak and_ _wearing off already,_ I think, remembering how Karliah's poison drastically slowed the spill of my blood when Mercer cut my throat wide. _This potion is nothing like that, but neither is this wound,_ I realise before I start to become aware of a faint tingling in my extremities, and a few seconds later, I feel my eyelids flutter. I desperately start to blink the dryness from my eyes, still raw from my tears, but when I try to lift my head to see what Mercer has done, I find the rest of my body still paralysed and numb, the feeling coming back to me excruciatingly slowly. _And I'm almost glad for it_ _,_ I think, afraid of what will happen when the potion wears off entirely. _I will still be chained and immobile, the only difference is I will be able to feel whatever he does to me next._

Mercer says nothing for almost a minute, by which time I am just about able to hold my head up myself; my neck aches fiercely with the effort, although it is nothing compared to the soreness in my arms, held up by the shackles around my wrists and bearing the weight of my limp body. As my senses return and I moan quietly as I become aware of a needling pain at my lower stomach, Mercer brushes my hair back away from my face and tucks the stray curls behind my shoulders before reaching into his pocket to retrieve another potion vial. Instead of forcing the liquid into my mouth, he removes the bloody rag and tips the vial's contents over his handiwork below my navel, and even though my body's senses are still somewhat dulled by the remnants of the paralysis, I feel the sharp sting of the liquid dripping into the open wound.

'Neither you nor Karliah will need to heal it,' Mercer murmurs over my gasp. 'I've done it for you, little bird. See?'

I look down and watch as the wound closes itself before my eyes, the potion-soaked flesh knitting over Mercer's incisions white and pure to form a network of clean scars about three inches in length, and I finally see what he has carved into my skin: a small diamond, intersected by two small circles at the centre.

'It won't ever fade,' Mercer tells me as I stare down at my body, confused at the strange symbol and not understanding what it means, although I understand well enough that it is another scar that I will carry because of him. 'It will serve as a reminder for you and anyone who thinks about touching you, until I come back and we can continue where we've left off here, little bird.'

At his words, I look up at him sharply, the pain of my sudden movement lost beneath my bewilderment as I try to read the expression in his dark eyes, not quite believing what he is saying and afraid to trust what I think he means. _Until he comes back?_

'Now don't start crying again,' Mercer says with a harsh laugh as he throws aside the stained rag and wipes any lingering blood from his hands onto his jacket. 'Don't worry, I'll see you again soon enough, Wren. I hate to think of that pretty little cunt of yours being deprived of what it wants most.' He steps forward and raises his hands to my head, freeing my hair from behind my shoulders, running his fingers through the curls as his gaze flickers over my face slowly, deliberately, as if casting my features to his memory. 'But for now, working alone is more profitable. The Guild is on its way out, and once Karliah gets her claws into them, the fools will be even more useless than they are now.' He makes a soft laugh in his throat. 'And we'll just see how long the Guild lasts without its contacts and its plans. And without me.'

My body numb from shock rather than any potion, I do not move when Mercer leans close and kisses me softly, his lips gentle against mine in a brief kiss that only unnerves me further, barely believing that this is not just another of his games and that he is actually about to bury a dagger in my heart rather than leave. _I can't trust anything he says, no matter how desperately I want to believe it._

When Mercer pulls away a second later, one of his hands leaves my hair and retrieves another potion from his pocket, the vial larger than the others and filled with a thick dark substance.

'One last goodbye present,' Mercer says as I look at the vial nervously. 'A sleeping potion. When you wake in a couple of hours, maybe someone will have rescued you and you'll be safe.' He pauses, the candlelight catching a dangerous glimmer of laughter in his eyes. 'Or maybe it's poison, and you won't wake up at all.' His hand loosens from my hair and moves down to cup the side of my face. 'Which do you think it is, Wren?'

I stare back at him in silence, feeling my heart racing fast in my chest, not sure if my mouth will even move enough to form a reply. 'It's not poison,' I whisper finally, my lips tingling with the effort, my voice broken with its lack of use and the rawness in my throat still lingering from my tears and his efforts earlier.

'No?' Mercer inclines his head. 'Are you sure of that?'

A flicker of doubt cuts through my mind, knowing I cannot put it past him to poison me if it amused him to do so. _But he wouldn't have marked me if he was going to just leave me here to die,_ I think, before the actual truth hits me and a strange calmness suddenly settles in my heart, slowing its nervous beating in a way that has little to do with any lingering effects of the paralysis.

'I know you won't kill me,' I say, trying to make my voice stronger. 'I was paralysed on the ground in Snow Veil Sanctum and you could've severed my neck to shreds if you had wanted to, but you didn't.' I stare back into his dark eyes, voicing the words that I have forced to the recesses of my mind ever since I left the ruin alive, too frightened to think what they meant. 'You knew there was a chance Karliah would save me. You let her rescue me. You wanted me to survive.'

Although I do not ask _why_ , the question hangs in the air between us, and Mercer makes a small smile as he holds my gaze.

'Did I?' he says quietly. 'And why would I want you to survive?'

'I don't know,' I say, wishing I knew the answer and yet terrified to hear it. 'You... enjoy me. You've always liked playing with me.'

The Guildmaster inclines his head, the small smile at his mouth widening. 'What makes you think that I'm done playing with you?' Before I can even think of an answer, he removes the lid of the vial and raises the potion to my lips. 'If you're so confident I'm not poisoning you, open your mouth one last time for me, little bird.'

The brief calmness that overcame my heart vanishes as quickly as it came, and I stare at him silently, faced with the sudden choice and not knowing how to read the look in Mercer's dark eyes as he watches me closely - and yet despite my trepidation, it is only a few seconds before I close my eyes and part my lips to let him tip the potion into my mouth. _If I'm wrong, I'm dead, and that's how I thought this would end anyway._

Though mingled slightly with the salt on my lips from my tears, the potion tastes heavy and sweet, its honey-like consistency making the pain of swallowing it down more bearable. _If it is poison, at least it doesn't hurt to consume it,_ I think, wondering when the potion will start to have an effect. _Whatever that effect is._

My eyes open again at the sound of glass smashing on the ground as Mercer tosses aside the empty vial and strides across the cellar to the table. Still scarcely believing that he is leaving and thinking it more likely an elaborate ruse to toy with me, I watch as he gathers a few items from the selection on the table and tucks them inside the satchel, before he slings it over his shoulder and pulls up the hood of his jacket.

It is when he turns around and walks back over to me that I start to feel a grogginess weighing down my limbs, still limp and barely recovered from the paralysis yet - but I do not have a chance to wonder whether it is death or sleep calling to my weary body, as Mercer returns to stand before me and slips his hand into a pocket of his jacket, retrieving a small rusty key, with a splintered handle of jade and onyx.

'I'm sure Karliah's told you all about the Skeleton Key, hasn't she?' he says casually.

Startled by his words and the realisation of what he is holding in front of me, I do not answer him, the sudden lethargy slowing my mind but knowing well enough that I do not want to admit how little Karliah has explained about the Key or how oblivious I am to the truths of the past. _Almost as blind as I am to the reality of the present or what will happen in the future._

Mercer seems to know what is going through my mind. 'Well, I'm not surprised she didn't say anything,' he says idly, as if he expected nothing less. 'She wouldn't want everyone to know she was the one who stole it from Nocturnal's shrine in the first place and started this whole mess... which she's now trying to get everyone to fix for her.' My shock must register on my face, as Mercer laughs. 'Surprised? Karliah is a bad girl with dark secrets, just like you. I'd be careful with her, Wren. She'll use you any way she can.' A small smile curls at his mouth. 'And I doubt she'll be so obliging as to fuck you in return for using you like I did.'

 _Another game,_ I think, knowing how he has already twisted what I thought of Karliah in the past and knowing he would do it again if it suited his purpose, but my mind suddenly blurs as a wave of exhaustion comes over me and I can only silently fight to keep my eyes open as Mercer tucks the Skeleton Key back into his pocket and steps forward, closing the gap between us.

'I'll always carry the Key with me from now on, Wren,' Mercer says, his hands gliding upwards over my waist and ribs, his touch sending a chill through my body and raising goosebumps over my skin. 'So if you want to help Karliah find it, you'll know where to look. Then we can finish what we've started, can't we?' His hands reach my chest and he cups my breasts, his eyes gleaming as he brings his face close to mine. 'Because as much as I enjoyed playing with you, we both know you enjoyed it too.' He leans closer still, but instead of bringing his mouth to mine, he dips his head down to my breasts. 'You'll deny it until the day you die, but we know the truth, don't we?' he murmurs against my skin, running his mouth over my left breast. 'And that's all right, Wren. It'll be our little secret.'

Before I can even think of an answer, his mouth latches on to my nipple and he starts sucking at me, warm and wet and keen. The sensation hurts and brings me no pleasure, every inch of me frightened and repulsed to have him anywhere near me, but there is little I can do to stop my body's forced reaction to another's touch, my breath catching and my nipple stiffening painfully after few seconds under his mouth's efforts as a tingling sensitivity aches through my breasts.

Mercer makes a soft laugh in his throat before he runs his tongue wet over my breast and proceeds to move his mouth up my collarbone and to my neck; Mercer licks over the tender scar at my throat at the same moment that his hand slips down my body to my lower stomach, and despite the healing potion he dripped into the wound, I feel a sharp needling pain as his fingers trace over the symbol he incised in my flesh there.

Another wave of exhaustion abruptly washes over me, and the fierce pain I feel at Mercer's touch diminishes to a distant and vague soreness as the potion blankets my senses, leaving me struggling to keep my eyes open again. The shackles cut deep into my wrists as I slump down, feeling my energy diminishing with every passing second.

'I was wrong, you know,' Mercer murmurs with one last kiss to my neck. 'I didn't need to mark you physically, did I? Every time someone touches you, you'll think of me. Every time you go to sleep, you'll think of me. You won't ever forget me, will you? I much prefer leaving my mark on your insides that way, little bird.'

He pulls away and steps back from my slack body, and from beneath my eyelashes as my eyelids droop heavily, I see the familiar smirk at his mouth as his gaze moves over me.

'Oh, and this?' He reaches into his satchel and pulls out a painfully familiar dagger, and through my slipping consciousness, I feel my neck twinge feebly at the sight of the Blade of Justice in his hands, remembering how he last used my dagger on me. 'You'll want this for when you kill Astrid, won't you? I promise I'll return it to you, the next time we meet.' Mercer makes a quiet laugh. 'As long as you ask me nicely.'

In the last thin sliver of my vision beneath my lashes as my eyes start to close, I see Mercer turn away and return to the table, where he blows out the candles in one breath, throwing the cellar into a sudden and pitch darkness.

'Sleep well, little bird,' he tells me softly, although by the time the words have reached my ears, my eyes have closed and I have slipped into a deep induced sleep, and his last words to me are nothing but an echo in oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Here's hoping this new year will be better than what came before; I can at least promise that it will be better for Wren, now that Mercer is out of the way, however temporarily that may be - I intended to get this chapter up in the last few hours of 2017 so that the new year could psychologically be a fresh start for her, but this spiralled into a hundred million thousand words again. So here's an out of the ordinary Monday update! I hope you enjoy it, and excuse me while I go cry over having to get back to normal work hours tomorrow.  
> By the way, kissing scenes are hard. Why do I have an easier time writing degrading smut than I do writing kisses?! *Sigh* Sorry if this reads clumsily. And I promise there is only one more chapter to wait until the kisses finally develop into something more <3  
> Also Mercer turned into some kind of potion dealer in this chapter. Crystal vials for days.
> 
> PS. 'Truth' on Game of Thrones S7 soundtrack. That's all I am saying. You'll understand my heart and Wren/Bryn if you listen to that <3


	23. Business

 

The faint sound of rushing water drifts into my consciousness, slowly stirring me from my sleep. I close my eyes tighter, feeling the pleasantly heavy weight of my limbs as I snuggle deeper into a warm tangle of sheets, knowing that I could never even open my eyes, let alone rouse my weary body from its comfortable nest.

 _And what is this nest?_ I think vaguely, convinced that I am lying in a bed, with ample covers over my body and soft pillows beneath my head, but beyond that, I find my mind sleepily oblivious as to where I am. _I'm somewhere in the Cistern, though,_ I think with no doubt in my mind, knowing its sound as well as my own heartbeat and yet not knowing why I feel surprised to realise that I am at the Guild. _Why shouldn't I be here?_ I question myself, part of me certain that this is home and wondering where else I would possibly be but here. Before I can make sense of my confusion, the thoughts fall away from my mind and I sigh softly with contentment at the quiet peace, more than willing to slip back into a deep sleep and not think any further just yet.

I drift back out of consciousness, my dreams clouded and empty. When I wake again some time later, my senses seem more alert than before; over the distant rushing water, I hear the soft hissing of a candle somewhere nearby and the occasional sound of liquid sloshing in a glass bottle, and I catch the faint scent of strong mead on the air. When I open my eyes drowsily, I find myself staring at a stone wall, candlelight flickering over the rough surface and casting uneasy shadows in the cracks between the stones.

 _I was chained to a stone wall when my eyes were last open,_ I think, suddenly feeling its unyielding hardness behind my back as vividly as if I were still there, shackled by my wrists and naked in Mercer's cellar, and with a painful jolting in my heart, the memories force themselves back into my mind inescapably. _This blissful dreamless sleep was his goodbye present. Among the other things he left me with._

Fear claws in my stomach and I kick back the covers from my body, scrambling to sit upright as I look around desperately, but my vision blurs with my sudden movement and in my dizziness I can see little of the room in which I find myself, beyond the bundle of covers and furs around me and the glowing light from a cluster of candles burning on a desk - but when I catch sight of the hazy silhouette of a man leaning there, tall and broad and in dark Guild leathers, I squeeze my eyes tightly shut and welcome the wave of dizzy nausea that overtakes me. _Mercer, and this is his room at the Cistern,_ I think, feeling my heart drop hard as I realise that it was all just another game and despite his farewell words, he has only brought me back to his bed. _He was right, I'm never going to be able to forget him. I was a fool to think he would ever leave me._

'Wren,' someone says, and I hear the sound of a half-empty bottle being hurriedly placed on the wooden desk. 'It's all right, you're safe.'

My heart flutters painfully at the familiar voice, some part of me not wanting to open my eyes and discover that it is only a cruel trick _. And even if it's not a trick, I still don't know if I want to open my eyes,_ I think, remembering when I last heard the voice just as vividly as I recall the events in Mercer's cellar. _And some part of me would rather it was Mercer, because he could carve all the scars into me he likes but none of them will hurt as much as the feeling of Brynjolf's dagger against my throat._

I take a breath to steady my heart before I reluctantly open my eyes to find the red-haired thief standing right beside the bed. The candles are stronger than the magelight when last we met, and with a strange sad fluttering in my stomach, I realise just how exhausted Brynjolf appears to be. His broad shoulders are rigid with tension, and auburn hair falls in messy tangles to his shoulders as if he has run restless fingers through it and tied it back and loosened it again repeatedly. The shadows under his eyes are heavier than they appeared in the passageway, as if he has carried the darkness from that place with him ever since, and it hits me that while I have been sleeping, he clearly has not.

The heavy knitting of his brow lessens and relief flickers in his green eyes as he stands perfectly still and looks down at me in silence for a moment, until he abruptly drops to one knee on the edge of the bed beside me and reaches out with his hand to touch my shoulder.

'Wren-' he starts, his voice hitched, but I flinch back from his hand instinctively before I can stop myself, still disoriented and recalling Mercer's touch what seems like only minutes ago. _The last time someone touched me, he cut his mark into my stomach._

I see a flash of pain in Brynjolf's eyes at my frightened reaction and he pulls back his hand immediately, his jaw clenched as a bitter second passes in silence.

'You're at the Guild,' he tells me finally. 'No one is going to hurt you here, Wren. You have my word.'

 _The Guild want me dead,_ I think, remembering that Brynjolf told me so himself, when he held his dagger to my throat. _His word means nothing._

A bitter chill races down my spine and I quickly draw the covers back over my body, feeling as uneasy and afraid as if I were still chained in Mercer's cellar. _But at least I'm dressed,_ I think as I pull the furs over my body and realise that I am clothed in an unfamiliar loose shirt and trousers. _But whose? And who dressed me?_ With that thought and the quiet comprehension dawning on me, I pull the covers tighter around my body, twice as unnerved when I realise I have been carried unconscious through the city and had my naked body clothed by unknown hands. _And even if someone told me what happened, how could I ever trust them enough to believe it?_

'Where-' I start to say, but the dryness in my mouth prevents me from making little more than a faint gasping sound.

Without a word, Brynjolf reaches over to the end table beside the bed and picks up a silver cup. When he holds it out to me, I keep my hands on my lap and eye the cup's contents nervously, suddenly remembering the potions Mercer gave me. _I drank them blindly, like the fool I am._

'It's water,' Brynjolf says at my hesitation. 'I know you don't trust me, but I promise it's just water.' As he stares back at me, I see the desperation in his eyes. 'Please, lass,' he murmurs. 'Drink it.'

Before I can question myself, my body acts of its own accord and I reach for the cup, feeling my thirst keenly and knowing the water will rouse my sleepy body. _And at the back of my tongue, I still taste the salt of my tears, and the frosty paralysis potion, and Mercer._ My hands suddenly fumble and I almost spill the water over myself until Brynjolf's hand covers mine gently and he helps me to bring the cup to my lips. His skin is warm against mine as he holds the cup steady while I drink deeply and try my best not to bring the water back up, the soreness in my throat still lingering keenly enough to make swallowing somewhat of a challenge. _But it's better than it was,_ I realise as I drink quickly, the discomfort of the wound lessened now to a dull ache rather a fierce searing pain. _Someone healed me again._

By the time I have finished the water and Brynjolf takes the empty cup from my shaking hands, my mind and mouth are clear enough that I can no longer avoid voicing the bitter questions in my head.

'Where is Sapphire?' I say, afraid of the answer and yet desperately needing to know. 'What happened to her? Mercer took her somewhere when I was unconscious, I don't-'

'She's here, and she's safe,' Brynjolf tells me, his voice level as my own rises shrilly. 'He didn't take her far. She was out cold in one of the bedrooms at Riftweald, presumably thanks to the same potion he used on you. It's all right, she woke an hour ago,' he adds quickly, evidently seeing the panic strike across my face at the thought of Sapphire being unconscious in Mercer's bed. 'She's fine, Wren, I swear. She'll tell you herself. Mercer didn't hurt her.'

I stare at him, trying to believe his words, wanting nothing more than to believe his words, but it is only a brief painful moment before I realise it is far too late to believe. 'He did hurt her,' I say faintly, my fingers burying into the covers as I clutch them tighter to my body, feeling the dagger wounds he left on Sapphire's breast as if they are my own, the memory of her bruises and leather lashed thighs making my heart beat uncomfortably fast. 'Because of me,' I whisper, and I look down at my hands, hating myself for not being quicker to fight back against Mercer, for not finding a way to free her myself, for causing her to be there in the first place. _So what if she's safe now? Mercer is still alive, and I am still just as powerless to defend her, or myself._

Brynjolf does not speak for several seconds, and I keep my gaze on my lap, not wanting to look at him, desperately trying to ignore the weak part of me that longs to wrap my arms around his neck and burst into tears on his shoulder. _He held a blade to my throat,_ I remind myself, knowing that I cannot trust him not to do it again the next time someone claims that I am a traitor - and yet it is all I can do to fight the desire to collapse against his solid body and beg him for some way to take away my pain. _And I still remember how I lost myself in his kiss, and how every fear in my mind slipped away beneath his mouth._

I am trying to force the memory from my mind when Brynjolf suddenly rises from the bed and strides across the room to the desk. I look up and watch as the thief picks up a bottle of wine from the desk, the surface of which is strewn with papers, coins and other bottles of varying contents. _Most look empty,_ I think, but before I can wonder whether he is drinking to forget or celebrate, Brynjolf returns to the bed and sits back down on the edge, careful to keep his distance from me.

'Karliah insisted on water only,' he says, picking up the silver cup from the end table and starting to pour the wine. 'But I won't tell if you don't, lass.'

When he holds the full cup out to me a few seconds later, I do not hesitate to take it from him this time, deciding that while the wine may not help to clear my head, it will at least make the thoughts inside my head easier to bear.

The wine goes down even quicker and less painfully than the water, the taste balanced and with a sweet edge that has me gulping down the entire cup in less than half a minute. Brynjolf watches me drink without a word, and when I have swallowed the last few drops, he takes the cup again and refills it almost to the brim before pushing it back into my hands.

With my hands steadier and some of the tension in my body now relaxed by the quickly consumed wine, I clutch the cup and am about to bring it to my mouth once again when I suddenly hear the thief's words.

'So Karliah's here too?' I say, relieved at the thought of having her nearby before I wonder at the circumstances of the violet-eyed thief's presence at the Guild. _Are they begging for her forgiveness or are they holding her prisoner for her treachery?_

Brynjolf seems to read my mind. 'Neither of you has anything to fear from the Guild,' he says. 'Not anymore.' He hesitates, his gaze flickering over my face, bitter regret darkening the vivid green in his eyes. 'Look, Wren-'

'Who brought me here?' I ask before he can continue, not wanting to hear the apology I know he means to say, my heart fluttering uncomfortably with the prospect of hearing the words and not knowing how I will respond to them. 'Did Karliah follow me to Mercer's house?'

The dark look of regret does not leave Brynjolf's eyes. 'She did,' he answers, his voice clipped. 'She was trying to carry you and Sapphire out of there when Rune arrived.'

'Rune?' I repeat, feeling a humiliated heat rise in my cheeks and neck with the thought of what the dark blond thief might have seen when he turned up at Riftweald. _The last thing I remember, I was hanging by my wrists naked, my stomach bloody and scarred from Mercer's mark and my mouth still dripping with his pleasure,_ I think, until I suddenly comprehend what Brynjolf is telling me, and the humiliation disappears beneath an intense rush of gratitude and surprise. 'Rune went there alone to save Sapphire?'

Brynjolf nods once. 'I'm told he was trying to find me when he realised he was only wasting time,' the redhead says evenly, although I hear the edge in his voice with every word. 'He knew Sapphire could be in danger so he went to Riftweald alone to find her. Mercer had gone and Karliah was already there by the time he arrived, and together they brought you and Sapphire here. You've been asleep for a couple of hours.'

I bring the cup to my lips and take a deep gulp of the wine, trying to piece together the thoughts in my mind and finding one part painfully absent. 'Where is Mercer now?' I ask.

Brynjolf's expression hardens and the edge undercutting his voice sharpens to bitter steel. 'I don't know,' he says shortly. 'His room has been stripped bare and he's taken everything of value from the Cistern.'

'And the Guild don't blame me and Karliah for that?' I say flippantly, trying to ignore the uneasiness in my stomach at the thought of Mercer's unknown whereabouts. 'I'm shocked. We're the lying traitors, after all, aren't we?'

The thief's eyes flash with regret at the pointed sarcasm in my voice. 'A few of them still think that,' he says quietly. 'I don't. And while I am here, none of them will lay a hand on you and you'll never be held here against your will.' He looks down for a moment, and when he meets my gaze again a second later, the look in his eyes is distant and resigned. 'And wherever you decide to go after you leave the Guild, you won't have to worry about any of them coming after you, and no one will stop you from entering Riften if you ever want to come back. That much I can promise you.'

My barbed sarcasm vanishes when I hear his words and a hollowness cuts sharply through my heart. _He wants me to leave?_ I think, before I am forced to remember that I did not come back to Riften to try to rejoin the Guild anyway. _Sapphire is safe, and if the Guild no longer believes Karliah to be a traitor, then I've done what I came here for,_ I think, remembering the deal I made with the violet-eyed thief in the Windhelm dockside inn - and yet it quickly dawns on me that I cannot expect her to uphold her side of the bargain and help me to destroy Astrid, not now that the Guild is on her side and she has far more capable allies than me to help her take down Mercer. _But maybe she will at least help me gather enough money so that I can get to the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary alone._

I finish the rest of the wine as a strange calm detachment works its way through me, edging the fear and nerves from my heart and leaving nothing but grim resolve. _Falkreath, just south of the city, below the road in the grey pine forest,_ I think, the words clearer than anything else Mercer has ever said to me, focusing on the knowledge of Astrid's location rather than any other gift the Guildmaster gave me. _He left me alive for the second time. I cannot wait for him to toy with my life for the third time before I finally begin what I was meant to do._

I push the empty cup back into Brynjolf's hands. 'Where is Karliah?' I ask. 'I need to talk to her.'

'In the Cistern with everyone else.' His hands cover mine before I can let go of the cup or start to get up from the bed. 'Wren, just give me a minute,' he says quickly. 'Please. I need to apologise. What I did and what I said to you when you came back to Riften, I didn't...' Brynjolf tails off and looks down at our hands for several moments, the frown deepening at his brow, and when his gaze finally returns to my eyes and he continues speaking, his voice is low and broken. 'I won't ask for your forgiveness. I know you can't give it and I know I don't deserve it. But I am more sorry than you can ever know. If I could go back and change what I did, I would, Wren. I'd change everything.'

 _Everything?_ I think, some pathetic part of me wanting to know exactly what he means and whether what happened between us in the magelit passageway was all just an impulse borne of anger or whether it was something else. _Gods, h_ _ere I am broken and branded and I want to know why he kissed me,_ I scold myself, knowing that there are more important things to concern myself with right now. _And it doesn't matter why anyway, not when he had a dagger to my throat only a few minutes before,_ I think, even as the coldness in my heart fractures when I look into Brynjolf's eyes, seeing his tiredness, his regret, his pain, and I suddenly realise how desperately I want to take it all away from him.

'I don't blame you for not trusting me,' I tell him honestly, not hurting any less by the memory of his dagger against my neck and the venom in the words he spoke to me but well aware that I was a fool to hope for anything different. _And in truth, I really can't blame him, when I was the one who let it all happen._ 'You've known Mercer for years. We've barely known each other a couple of months. I never expected you to believe me over him.'

A bitter smile pulls at Brynjolf's mouth. 'You don't need to make excuses for me, Wren. I held a dagger to your throat.' His gaze flickers down to my neck momentarily, and when he looks back at my face, his eyes are cold and pained. 'I'm no better than Mercer.'

Before I can tell him how wrong he is, Brynjolf lets go of my hands and stands up abruptly, dropping the empty silver cup onto the end table and stepping away from the bed.

'Everyone will want to know you're awake,' he says, his voice curt. 'You can stay here and sleep if you want. Finish the wine, or there's water on my desk. It's a few hours til dawn but you can stay here as long as you like.'

 _His desk, and this is his room,_ I realise as he starts to head towards the door, feeling a keen knot form in my stomach with the sudden awareness that I am lying in Brynjolf's bed, before my mind reconnects and I quickly push back the covers, knowing I cannot linger any longer. _Even though I'd like nothing more than to drink the rest of the wine and return to my blissful oblivious sleep in the warm nest of sheets._

As I force myself out of the bed and the chill of the stone floor startles my bare feet, the room seems to spin around me, my vision blurring from the two hastily consumed cups of wine and the deepness of my sleep. My weak legs stumble and nearly send me back down to the bed until I feel Brynjolf's hands grasp my waist.

'Take it easy,' he says as he holds me steady, a touch of exasperation in his voice. 'If you fall over and knock yourself out under my watch, Karliah will kill me.'

I clutch at his arms as my vision clears and I find myself staring at his chest. 'Then you shouldn't have given me two cups of wine,' I mutter, looking up at his face as he stands in front of me.

I see the ghost of a genuine smile pull at his mouth momentarily. 'That's one thing I won't apologise for, lass,' he says before he releases me and turns away to the foot of the bed. He reaches down to pick up a leather satchel lying there. 'Karliah left this for you. She said she put your daggers inside. Apparently Mercer left them in the cellar where-' Brynjolf stops speaking abruptly. 'Where Karliah found you,' he finishes a moment later, his voice level, although a heavy silence hangs in the air and I know he must be thinking about how I was discovered, naked and chained against the wall.

He passes me my satchel, and with shaking hands I open it to find the Dunmer's glass blade and my silver dagger resting on top of my clothes. My heart catches with sight of the two daggers, thinking of Rune's unwavering loyalty and Karliah's determination, both of which have seemingly saved my life and Sapphire's. _I'll have to return Karliah's blade to her,_ I think, knowing she only lent it to me temporarily after we left Snow Veil Sanctum and journeyed to Riften together. _After she saved my life, just like she has done again._

Before I can think of something to say, I hear a knock on the door. 'Brynjolf?' a woman's voice says quietly, its sound familiar and making my heart skip a beat with relief as the door starts to open. 'Is she still not awake?'

Brynjolf has no time to respond before Sapphire steps into the room and her question is answered for her, as she stops short at the sight of me. The raven-haired thief is dressed in Guild leathers once again, with her hair plaited down one side and her dagger strapped to her thigh, and although she looks as tired as I feel, her hazel eyes burn viciously with a fury that mingles with keen relief as she stares silently at me. She hesitates at the threshold for only a moment before she crosses the room towards me, sidestepping Brynjolf and pulling me into a sudden and fierce hug.

'You're a fucking idiot,' she says, her arms snaking around my neck and gripping me tightly. 'Why don't you ever fucking listen to me?'

'Maybe because you'd still be there if I had?' I answer, my voice light, even as I drop my satchel onto the bed and cling to Sapphire desperately, relief coursing through me to see her alive and unhurt rather than chained and bleeding because of me. 'Are you all right?'

Just as quickly as she embraced me, the raven-haired thief releases me, her hands holding my shoulders as she looks at me. 'Karliah healed what he did to me easily enough,' she says dismissively. Her eyes hold mine, the green in them brighter than the warm brown. 'Are you all right?'

With her words, I vividly remember every moment in the cellar, the moments Sapphire witnessed and those that she did not. 'I'm fine, she must've healed me too,' I say, making my voice as careless as I can, even as I feel both a humiliated flush stalk up my cheeks with what Sapphire saw me do and an uneasy chill crawl down my back with the things she did not see Mercer do to me.

'Did he-' Sapphire stops the question abruptly, her jaw clenched tight as the fire burns in her eyes just as fiercely as it did in the cellar. 'You know we're going to kill him, don't you?' she says instead. 'You know we're going to pay him back for what he's done?'

'I'd just be glad never to see him again,' I say, even as I suddenly feel a tingling consciousness of the scar on my body and I recall Mercer's promise that we would one day finish what we started. _I know we're not going to kill him, and I know I'll see him again._

'Then know that I will kill him for the both of us,' Sapphire says firmly, oblivious to my thoughts as her eyes flicker over my face. 'And look, the next time you want to try to play the heroine and rescue me, don't bother, all right?' she says sarcastically, although beneath the familiar fire in her eyes I see the same fear that I also saw when we were in Mercer's cellar, and it hits me that while I have been worrying about her, she has been worrying about me too.

'And the next time you get the brilliant idea of wandering around Mercer Frey's house alone, don't bother,' I reply, matching her tone. 'What did you think I was going to do, Saph? Leave you there?'

'I didn't want you to put yourself in danger for me,' she answers stiffly.

'Then you shouldn't have done it for me,' I point out, trying to keep my words light and unbroken, even as I hear my voice shake with the thought of how she never would have gone to Mercer's house if she had not tried to help me, and before I can stop myself, the words spill from my mouth. 'You never would've been there if it wasn't for me,' I say, feeling bitter tears of regret choke my throat. 'Of course I was going to do anything to get you out.'

Sapphire does not reply and we look at each other in silence for a few moments - and it's then that I suddenly realise that we are alone in Brynjolf's room. Before I can wonder when he left and how I did not notice, Sapphire lets go of my shoulders abruptly and turns away to pick up my satchel.

'Come with me.' She slings my satchel over her shoulder and takes my hand, and without waiting for my reply, she pulls me to follow her as she heads to the door.

Startled but trusting her more than myself, I let Sapphire lead me out of Brynjolf's room. 'If you're thinking we should get drunk, I won't argue with you,' I say lightly, but she does not quip back, and I can only hurry to keep up with her, my bare feet chilly on the worn stones as she leads me down the passageway to the main area of the Cistern.

The brief flutter of relief in my heart at the sight of the familiar place again quickly disappears when I hear raised voices and I notice the cluster of guildmembers around Mercer's desk. _It looks like everyone in the Guild is here,_ I think, as I look nervously at the crowd. _Everyone except its Guildmaster, that is._

'Just ignore them,' Sapphire says quietly as she leads me around the edge of the Cistern, not towards the Ragged Flagon but in the direction of the water room, taking the long way around to avoid the congregation at the Guildmaster's desk. 'They've been arguing for a long time.'

I am more than happy to do as she suggests and try to ignore the commotion of the guildmembers, my nerves heightening as I catch sight of Brynjolf, Rune and Karliah amongst the group and I feel a jolt of panic over what they are arguing about. _Did Karliah tell everyone how she found me? Marked, used, with Sapphire's blood and the remnants of Mercer's pleasure at my expense still staining the floor beneath the shackles where he restrained both of us?_

'Look, it's just fucking words on a page,' Thrynn says, his voice rising above the rest. 'What does that prove?'

'If you could read the words, maybe you'd find out what it proves?' Niruin points out.

Thrynn laughs a harsh laugh. 'So if I wrote on a bit of paper _the little Bosmer shit gets a sword through his stomach,_ does that make it true?'

'Thrynn's right, this isn't proof of anything,' Vex says before Niruin can retort, and when I risk another glance over at the group, I catch sight of the blonde thief pushing a familiar black leather-bound book into Karliah's hands. 'You say Mercer killed Gallus. Why the hell should we believe you?'

'He kidnapped two guildmembers and he has just robbed you blind, again,' Karliah says coldly. 'If you still trust his word, you're a fool.'

'I don't trust his fucking word,' Vex snaps. 'But that doesn't mean I trust yours either.'

I look away and keep walking with Sapphire, hoping that I will not draw their attention, but as the raven-haired thief stops outside the door to the water room, I suddenly hear my name spoken, along with Mercer's, and the word _traitor_. Before I have a chance to discern exactly what is being said across the Cistern, Sapphire takes my arm and turns me to face her.

'Go in,' she says, jerking her head to the water room door. 'Take as long as you want, I'll watch the door.'

'Weren't we going to get drunk?' I say, suddenly wishing that we had stayed in Brynjolf's room and finished whatever was left in his collection of bottles.

Sapphire's eyes hold mine. 'We'll do that after,' she says. 'Look, this will help you, trust me. After I-' She stops herself abruptly as something darkens in her eyes, and when she continues a moment later, her voice is quiet and low, barely audible over the rushing water and the echoing voices on the other side of the room. 'After I killed the bandits, I went to the nearby stream and washed their blood off me, and my own. It made me feel better about... about everything. It felt good, to wash away what had been before.' She holds my gaze as I feel a fluttering in my heart for the memories she bears and the lingering pain in her eyes. 'You need to do the same.'

'Saph,' I start, but I do not get a chance to comfort her or to claim that I need no such thing, before she pushes my satchel into my hands.

'If nothing else, it'll wake you up,' she says briskly, clearly not wanting to speak further. 'And you need to get out of those clothes. I'll wait here.'

She opens the door to the water room and steps aside, waiting for me to enter. Already well aware of the raven-haired thief's stubbornness, I do as she commands and step inside, deciding that at least I will not be able to hear what the guildmembers are saying about me. _And she's right, too. I want to wash all of this off me._

As Sapphire closes the door behind me and the sound of rushing water drowns out everything else, I drop my satchel on the floor and take off the unfamiliar shirt and trousers, quickly coming to the conclusion that Karliah must have found them in Mercer's house and suddenly feeling as if his skin is brushing against my own as I pull off his shirt and trousers. _And while I'm grateful Karliah dressed me in whatever she could find rather than carrying me naked to the Guild, I already have enough of Mercer on my body without having to wear his clothes too._

Shivering with my nakedness but suddenly feeling too unsteady to walk across the room to stand beneath the warm water's flow, I look down at the small network of scars Mercer left on my lower stomach. _Karliah must've healed me and washed the blood off me at Riftweald,_ I realise, finding that my skin is already clean of any dried blood and the pain is nothing more than a dull ache when I touch the silvery marking with my fingertips. The symbol means as little to me as it did when Mercer carved it into my skin, and for a moment I wonder about its significance, but the thought of showing it to anyone or asking Karliah if she recognises the marking only sends a wave of discomforting humiliation coursing through me and I quickly look away from the scar, not wanting to think of it, much less talk about it to anyone.

 _Pretend it doesn't exist, like every other scar I carry on my skin or in my heart,_ I tell myself, before another shiver wracks my body and I walk forward quickly to stand beneath the flow of the water, forcing my mind to clear of everything except the rushing sound. _It's home,_ I think, relishing the warmth that soon starts to work its way through my body as I let the water wash over me, drenching every inch of my hair and skin, although something in my heart remains cold and hard. _And it reminds me of who took my home from me, and where I must go next, and how this is the last time I will stand in this room._

By the time I feel strong enough to return to the Cistern and soon leave it for the last time, my fingertips are plump and wrinkled from the water and my hair drips sopping wet down my back. I use the discarded shirt to dry my body and hair as best I can before dressing in my own clothes, although I soon realise that I have no boots or footwear. _I never thought I'd be walking barefoot, coinless and alone to a guild of assassins,_ I think as I put my satchel over my shoulder, trying not to laugh at the ridiculousness of the image and simply hoping that Sapphire might let me borrow a pair of spare boots before I leave. _And I still have to tell her that I am leaving,_ I realise, the thought hitting me hard and painfully, before I remind myself that the Guild will do a better job of looking out for her than I ever could, and while Mercer is still alive, Sapphire being as far away from me as possible is the safest place for her.

When I open the water room door, the raven-haired thief is still waiting outside as she promised, although she is not alone. Karliah stands beside her, with her arms folded and a hard look of frustration on her face, although the simmering impatience in her violet eyes seems to fade as she turns to look at me.

'I failed you,' Karliah says without a moment's hesitation, her voice quiet and quick. 'I swore you would never be hurt by him again. I'm sorry, Wren.'

Caught off-guard by her words, I open my mouth and close it, not sure what to say, just as I did not know how to respond to her gratitude after Sapphire and Rune came to us in the cave. _It's just as hard for me to voice my feelings as it is for Karliah._ 'In all fairness, you kept your vow,' I answer eventually, making my voice light and responding in the only way I can. 'He paralysed me for the worst of it, so I didn't feel much pain.'

Karliah's grim expression fractures at my tone. 'Wren, don't do that,' she says softly. 'If someone has failed you, let them apologise. You don't have to accept their apology, but let them say it anyway.' She inclines her head, the corners of her mouth pulling into a brief small smile. 'It makes them feel better, you know.'

'Well, I accept your apology, so you don't need to say it,' I tell her. 'You didn't fail me, Karliah. You saved us.' I mirror her smile. 'I'll try to make sure you don't have to do it again.'

'Good, because I've already decided that was the last time I heal you while you're unconscious,' she says briskly, evidently reluctant to draw out the sentiment any longer. Her eyes flicker over my neck before dropping down to my stomach. 'Is it painful? I know he healed it but-'

'I'm fine,' I say shortly, not wanting to discuss what Mercer did to me within earshot of the entire Guild. _All I can do is hope that Karliah hasn't told them already,_ I think, feeling a hot rush of embarrassment with the thought of everyone knowing how the Guildmaster branded me. 'What's been going on?' I ask quickly. 'Has everyone apologised to you now?'

The Dunmer makes a quiet harsh laugh. 'Some of them have,' she says. 'But I didn't come here for an apology.' She pauses, her eyes scanning mine. 'Half the Guild are out searching the city for Mercer. We've gone through what's left in his room and Rune and I have been back to Riftweald but we've found nothing to suggest where he might be heading. Did he say anything to you?'

'No,' I reply, not wanting to remember the Guildmaster's last words to me, nor any of the events that transpired in his cellar.

Karliah's eyes darken with disappointment at my answer. 'I suppose we couldn't trust anything he might've said anyway,' she mutters, before her jaw sets and the look in her eyes turns to determination. 'Fine. Then there's only one other option. Maybe this time...' Her voice fades away until she shakes her head slightly, as if clearing away whatever thoughts cloud her mind. 'I know I shouldn't ask it of you, but will you help me, Wren?'

'Help you how?' I ask warily, but Karliah only shakes her head once more.

'We need to talk to the others,' she says, and without another word she turns around and walks away.

As I watch her head back across the Cistern, I realise that only six guildmembers are still standing around Mercer's desk, the others having evidently left to search for Mercer while I was in the water room; Vipir and Thrynn are arguing with Delvin, while Vex watches Karliah approach with narrowed eyes. Rune watches the Dunmer walk over to the group too, although his expression is nothing like that of the blonde thief; when he catches sight of me looking in his direction, the quiet warmth in Rune's eyes brightens further and he smiles at me. I return his smile, feeling slightly less trepidation at the prospect of walking over to them, until my gaze lands on Brynjolf leaning over the desk and a strange chill cuts through my heart at the sight of him in Mercer's place.

'I thought we were going to get drunk,' Sapphire mutters under her breath as I force myself to ignore the uneasy feeling inside me.

'I don't think I'm up to arguing with Karliah right now,' I say honestly, although the thought of walking over to the other guildmembers is twice as daunting as disobeying the Dunmer.

Sapphire sighs. 'Then I suppose the sooner we get this done with, the sooner we can drink,' she says, and together we reluctantly follow Karliah across the Cistern.

'Look, it doesn't fucking matter which of you goes to the damn brothel,' Brynjolf says sharply we approach, silencing Thrynn and Vipir's argument with Delvin. 'We need to assure our clients that it's business as usual, so just get out there and make sure they all know the Guild will still provide for them as we always have, no matter what Mercer might have said to them.'

'I'm just saying, either you want it done right,' Thrynn says, gesturing to himself before nodding at Vipir with a smirk at his mouth. 'Or you want it done quick.'

'I want it done without you wasting any fucking time with the whores,' Brynjolf snaps before Vipir can bite back. 'If Mercer's been planning this for a while, he's going to have reached out to our contacts, to encourage them to break away from the Guild. We can't let that happen.' His eyes flicker over to me as Sapphire and I come to stand beside Karliah, and the irritated fire in his eyes diminishes a little as he straightens up from the desk. 'We're not going to let that happen,' he says, his voice lower.

The other guildmembers turn to look at me too, and I quickly draw my arms around my body, feeling uncomfortable under the weight of their gazes as I start to imagine what is going through their minds and find myself cringing at the thought. _Even if they don't know, they can take a guess at what Mercer might've done with me or Sapphire,_ I think, seeing the knowing smirks on Thrynn and Vipir's faces and suddenly feeling as if I still have Mercer's pleasure dripping from my lips. Before I can force the thought from my mind and fight the awkward blush in my cheeks, Vex makes a quiet snort of derision and turns her gaze back to Brynjolf.

'Why is she still here?' she says icily. 'We can't trust her.'

'Drop it, Vex,' Brynjolf says, his tone matching hers.

'No, I won't _drop it._ How do we know Wren's not working with him?' Vex's silver eyes stay locked on Brynjolf as her voice grows harder. 'Mercer left her alive, didn't he? Why would he do that, if not to keep an informant on the inside?'

'An informant?' I repeat before anyone else can speak, my skin already crawling and feeling my temper sharpen violently with the blonde thief's accusation. 'Now you think I'm working with _Mercer?'_ I cannot help myself from making a sarcastic incredulous laugh. 'A few hours ago, you thought I was working with Karliah to take down the Guild. Make up your fucking mind.'

Vex blinks with my sudden vicious tone, but she is stunned only for a moment. 'I don't give a shit who say you're working with,' she says, her silver eyes narrowing. 'All I know is that it's not with us.' She turns her gaze back to Brynjolf. 'Look, Bryn, we can't trust her. Karliah is one thing, but the Guild has no need of Wren. Get what information you can out of her and get rid of her.'

'What useful information do you think I have?' I ask before the redhead can reply. 'If you interrogate me, what exactly do you think I'm going to be able to tell you?'

'She's right, Vex,' Thrynn puts in, a sly grin at his mouth. 'Knowing how Mercer likes his cock sucked isn't really going to help us find him.'

'Shut the fuck up,' Sapphire snaps as I feel my cheeks flush scarlet and whatever furious temper I had vanishes as humiliation burns through my skin.

'What?' Thrynn says innocently. 'It's the truth, isn't it? I'm just saying it how it is.'

'Keep saying it and I'll slit your fucking throat,' Sapphire hisses, but the ex-bandit only laughs.

'Easy, kitten, I'm not going to hurt you or the little bird,' he says mildly.

'But they will hurt you,' Delvin says to Thrynn before the raven-haired thief can retort. 'And I won't stop them. So watch your tongue if you want to keep it, lad. And you-' The old thief looks at Vex with a hard look in his eyes. 'Wren and Karliah are part of the Guild, and the Guild needs all the loyal members it can get. Maybe you should remember that, eh?'

'Enough,' Karliah says, her normally soft voice brisk as fury flashes across Vex's face. 'Every second we stand here wasting time, Mercer is getting further away.' She turns her violet eyes onto the redhead behind the desk. 'Brynjolf, it's time to end this. As acting Guildmaster, you have to-'

'Acting _what?'_ Brynjolf interrupts. 'Lass, I'm not the damn Guildmaster. Don't start throwing titles around, all right?'

'With Mercer gone, you're in command,' Karliah says. 'Or have things changed so much here in five years?'

'The lady has a point, Bryn,' Delvin puts in. 'You're already doing it, so why not make it official?' At Brynjolf's silence, the old thief grins. 'Come on, you afraid of doing it wrong? The Guild's officially broke and on a manhunt for its Guildmaster, you can't screw it up more than that.'

Brynjolf lays his hands flat on the desk and turns his gaze downwards. 'I don't want this,' he says, the words short and his mouth a hard line.

'None of us wanted this,' Karliah says, her voice cold. 'But you owe it to Gallus. You've let his killer walk free for too long.'

Brynjolf looks up sharply, anger flashing in his eyes. 'Do you really think I would've let Mercer walk free if I fucking knew what he had done?' he snaps. 'Don't you think I would've killed him myself if I knew the truth?'

'It doesn't matter what any of us _would've_ done, only what we did,' Karliah says, not fazed by his tone. 'And what we can do to fix our mistakes. You have to lead the Guild. You have to bring Gallus' murderer to justice.'

 _Justice_. The word cuts through my mind in the momentary silence and my hand moves instinctively to my thigh, my fingers grasping at the empty space where the Blade of Justice was once sheathed as bitter resolve carves out a hollow space my lower stomach, just beneath the scar Mercer left in my flesh. _She's right. What I would've done differently in the past doesn't matter now. I can only fix what has been done. I can only try to make this right and see that justice is done._

'Come on, Bryn,' Delvin says. 'We all know you're going to do it anyway, so just accept and we can get down to business. You said it yourself, we can't waste any time.'

Brynjolf closes his eyes for a moment, the frown deepening at his brow before he straightens up from the desk once more and folds his arms. 'Fine,' he says, his jaw set. 'Only until this is over and a new Guildmaster is chosen.'

Delvin reaches over and claps him on the shoulder. 'If that's what you have to tell yourself, lad. Now, we were talking about a manhunt, weren't we?'

'Our searches of Mercer's house and room here have given us nothing,' Karliah says swiftly before anyone else can speak. 'He didn't tell Wren or Sapphire where he was going and he won't have left a trail.'

'I'll get word to all the contacts we have,' Delvin says. 'Soon we'll have eyes and ears in every town and city in Skyrim.' He pauses, and his gaze flits back to Brynjolf. 'But like I said, it'll take coin, a lot more than what Mercer's left us with, and more than what we can lift with the hands we've got.'

'If they'll actually be of use to us, promise them whatever price they want,' Brynjolf says. 'We'll raise the funds somehow.'

'How?' Vex interjects, her delicate features still pulled into a scowl from Delvin's reprimand. 'Mercer took all the plans that might've yielded anything of value.'

'Not all of them,' Delvin says. 'Between me and our new Guildmaster, we've got more than enough to be working with.'

'Small heists, barely worth the time,' the blonde thief says dismissively. 'He's left us the scraps. And with our luck, they'll fail like all the rest.'

'Vex is right,' Karliah says, surprising me for a moment until she continues. 'We could have all the plans and contacts we want but the Guild won't recover without Nocturnal's favour.'

'Nocturnal?' Brynjolf repeats as Vex sighs and Vipir laughs. 'Don't start that now, Karliah. You can believe whatever you want, but Mercer was the one destroying the Guild, not some daedric prince.'

'Nocturnal is just a children's story,' Vipir adds. 'Next you're going to say that you're a Nightingale and disappear in a cloud of smoke.'

'We kill Mercer and our problem goes away,' Thrynn says before Karliah can respond to Vipir's mocking words, irritation flashing dangerously in her violet eyes as she glares at him. 'We get our revenge and we get our gold back. That's the end of it.'

'Mercer's death is far from the end of it,' the Dunmer says, every word edged. 'Nothing will change unless we retrieve the Skeleton Key from Mercer and return it to Nocturnal.'

Vex makes another quiet snort of laughter and I see Thrynn roll his eyes, but Delvin is the first to speak.

'The Skeleton Key of Nocturnal is worth a lot of coin,' the old thief says, his tone thoughtful and no mockery in his eyes as he surveys Karliah. 'Mercer's not likely to keep it in his pocket.'

'Which is why killing him is only half the battle,' she says swiftly. 'We have to get him to tell us where he's hidden it.'

'He won't have hidden it,' I say, the words suddenly spilling from my mouth as the memory forces its way into my mind. 'He told me he'd carry the Key with him from now on. He said that...' I tail off, a ripple of nausea rising in my stomach as I recall exactly what Mercer had said. _He said I enjoyed it. He said I'll never forget him. He said every time I go to sleep, I will think of him._ 'He said if we want to find it, we know where to look,' I finish lamely, my voice shaking as I hear the Guildmaster's words in my head as vividly as if he were standing beside me and whispering them into my ear.

_Then we can finish what we've started, can't we?_

I do not hear whatever Karliah says in response to my words, nor what Delvin says back to her, my heart suddenly thudding loud enough to drown their voices beneath the panicked racing of my blood in my ears. _Why am I still standing here listening to them talk about finding Mercer Frey when all I want to do is forget he even exists?_ I ask myself, desperately holding on to the foolish hope that he was wrong, that I will be able to forget him, that he has not left his mark on my mind and my insides as well as upon my skin. I draw my arms tighter across my body, trying and failing to control my quickened breathing and the shaking in my legs, when I suddenly feel Sapphire's arm touch lightly against mine; the contact is brief and perhaps by pure accident, and yet the feeling of her next to me comforts me more than I expect and far more than she can possibly know. _Besides, Mercer had her shackled to the wall and she's still breathing and standing just fine,_ _and she wants to kill him rather than run away and pretend it never happened._

'We all know we won't find him unless he wants to be found,' Karliah is saying as I force myself back into the present. 'The only way to get to Mercer is to bring him to us.'

'And since you've clearly got everything figured out, just how do you propose we do that?' Vex says mockingly. 'He's already taken everything he wanted from the Guild so it's not like he's going to come back here.'

Karliah does not answer straight away, and a look of resignation settles upon her face as if she knows the reaction she will receive from what she is about to say. 'No, Mercer won't come back here,' she says quietly. 'But there is a way I can bring him to Nocturnal's temple. He may not return to the Guild, but he will come to the Twilight Sepulcher if summoned.'

Her words are met with a heavy, brief silence, until Thrynn snorts loudly with derisive laughter.

'Summoned?' the ex-bandit says in ridicule as Vipir smirks and Vex mutters something inaudible under her breath. 'Are you going to send him an invitation? Maybe ask a courier to find him?'

I see the tension clenched tight in Karliah's jaw as she turns her violet eyes onto him. 'Mercer will answer to Nocturnal and her call,' she says stiffly, but her words only make Thrynn and Vipir scoff with laughter again.

'I told you this was a waste of time,' Vex says sharply, her silver eyes back on the redhead behind the desk, who remains silent and expressionless. 'If this is all she's going to offer us, she's about as much use to the Guild as Wren is.' Before Sapphire can jump to my defence or I can register the irritation that suddenly flickers Brynjolf's eyes, Vex carries on. 'Look, we need a real way to find Mercer. We don't have the time or resources for anything else right now.'

'Well, if the Sepulcher actually exists, we could loot the place,' Vipir adds lightly. 'If we're believing in legends now, that temple is filled with more stolen treasure than a hundred thieves could carry. It would fund our search for Mercer and then some.'

'But we'd have to get past the army of ghosts guarding it first,' Thrynn reminds him, smirking.

The pair lapse into amused silence and no one speaks for a few seconds, although I feel Karliah's fury emanating from her as she glares at them. I stay silent too, feeling distinctly disadvantaged as I realise that the other guildmembers all at least seem to know who or what Nocturnal and the Twlilight Sepulcher are, even if their awareness is mired with scorn. _I didn't learn theology at Honorhall,_ I think bitterly, trying not to think about the harder lessons I was taught during my time at the orphanage. _And the children's stories we told ourselves were about family and home, not gods and Nightingales._

'I don't need your time or resources,' Karliah says finally, and although she is clearly incensed by their mockery and I see the anger still simmering in her eyes, her mouth is drawn into a resolute line and she does not rise to their words. She hesitates for a moment before her gaze flickers over to me, and when she speaks, her voice is quiet and level. 'But I can't do this alone.'

My heart skips a beat as I meet her bright purple eyes and I realise whose help she is asking for. The others seem to realise it too, and whatever words I might have said in response to Karliah falter on my tongue as everyone turns to look at me, the weight of their gazes shrinking me to half my size.

'Come with me to Nocturnal's temple,' Karliah says, her eyes never leaving mine as she speaks low and fast, as if she knows she only has a few moments to convince me. 'You won't be in any danger, I swear, the ritual is harmless, but I can't do it alone. If I'm going to lure Mercer, I need you to-'

'All right, enough,' Brynjolf interrupts, his voice hard and harsh. 'You're free to do what you want but leave Wren out of it.'

'She's already a part of it,' Karliah answers without pause.

'By no choice of her own,' Brynjolf says just as swiftly, irritation flaring in his eyes and suddenly sounding like he did in the secret passageway, when the venom in his voice cut me deeper and more painfully than his dagger at my throat ever could. 'Look, you want to go pray at the feet of a fucking statue or perform some holy ritual to magically summon Mercer in front of you? Go right ahead, you know I won't stop you, but don't expect the rest of the Guild to go wandering halfway across Skyrim for your damn religion.'

'This isn't about religion, Brynjolf,' the Dunmer says coolly, not fazed by his tone as she folds her arms and stares back at him. 'It's business. You know as well as I do that there is a price for everything. The Guild's restoration requires more than Mercer's death. The Skeleton Key must be returned.' She looks at me, the expression in her eyes earnest and almost pleading. 'Help me, Wren. Let's finish this.'

My heart beats fast and I look back at Karliah silently, no part of me wanting to be involved in her plan to lure Mercer. _I remember how it ended the last time,_ I think, feeling a twinge of pain in my scarred neck and wondering why I am even hesitating to refuse Karliah as I know I should. _Because I could still be chained in Mercer's cellar if not for her,_ I realise, not forgetting that Rune might have found me anyway when he arrived to look for Sapphire but nonetheless feeling both indebted to the Dunmer and strangely irritated at the Guild's less than friendly reaction to her. _Whatever she believes in, I'm alive because of her, and although I have my own justice to pursue, I should at least hear her out before I_ _refuse her_ _._

'Where is this temple?' I ask eventually, twice as inclined to decline to help her if the Twilight Sepulcher is anywhere remotely cold or desolate as Snow Veil Sanctum was.

'It's in the western reaches of Falkreath,' Karliah says. 'Not far from the city.'

I feel something dead and cold cut through my heart. 'Falkreath?' I repeat faintly, my voice quieter than the thoughts that suddenly race deafeningly loud through my mind. _Falkreath, just south of the city, below the road in the grey pine forest._

Karliah's violet eyes do not blink as she holds my gaze, and I realise she knows exactly what is going through my mind. 'Remember what I said?' she murmurs as quietly as my own voice and yet I hear it clearer than anything else she has ever said. 'Help me, and I'll help you.'

It only takes me a moment longer to deliberate. _I have no desire to hunt down Mercer or lure him anywhere near me, but if Karliah wants someone to go with her to this temple and the road takes me right to Astrid's door, I don't need to consider._

'I'll go with you,' I say, barely believing the words out of my mouth but seeing Karliah's eyes light up with relief and knowing that I cannot take it back now. _And if I'm walking there coinless and barefoot, at least I won't be alone too._

'What?' Brynjolf and Sapphire say in unison, both evidently just as disbelieving of my decision as I am myself, but they have no time to question me as Rune steps forward.

'And I will go too,' the dark blond thief says. When the others turn to him in surprise, Rune only returns the gaze of a pair of surprised violet eyes. 'Whatever I can do to help track Mercer down and bring him to justice, I will,' he promises Karliah, who opens her mouth and promptly closes it without making a sound, seemingly caught off-guard by the thief's offer in a way she was not by my own. _She expected me to help her once she revealed the Sepulcher's location, but she didn't expect the same from anyone else._

Before Karliah can find her voice again, Sapphire sighs loudly. 'When do we leave, then?' the raven-haired thief says wearily, grim resignation in her voice.

'Saph, you're not-' I start to argue as I realise what she is saying.

'If you're determined to do this, I'm coming with you,' she says over me, her voice brooking no argument. 'The last time you left Riften, you came back with a cut throat. Maybe if I'm with you, that won't happen again.'

Karliah seems to recover as the surprise in her eyes turn to fierce determination. 'No one but Mercer will be getting their throat cut,' she says firmly. 'And with your help, he will get what he deserves sooner rather than later, I know it.'

Vex laughs coldly. 'Well, we're not going to stop you trying,' the blonde thief says, casting her silver eyes between Karliah, Rune, Sapphire and me. 'You can all go chase shadows and pray to however many gods you like. The Guild will find Mercer just as easily without you.' She turns her head to look at Brynjolf. 'Right, Bryn?'

Vex's words hang unanswered in the air as Brynjolf looks across the desk at us, his eyes hard and darkened. When his gaze meets mine, a strange feeling of regret suddenly claws at my stomach and for the second time tonight I desperately wish that I could do something to relieve the exhaustion weighing down his shoulders, that I knew a way to clear his mind from whatever thoughts knit his brow so deeply and to free him from whatever emotion makes his eyes seem so troubled. _But now I won't see him again, let alone see him smile at me again,_ I realise, barely able to comprehend that truth, trying to push the thought from my mind but only ending up wondering if Brynjolf realises it too, if he regrets it, if he wishes he could force me to stay - and in that brief moment as we look at each other, I fight the urge to change my mind and agree with the Guild's dismissal of Karliah's plan as folly. _I don't want to go to Falkreath, not for Karliah, not for Astrid. I want to forget everything and find a way to make him smile._

The moment breaks and I am dragged back to reality when Brynjolf's gaze flutters down to my scarred neck and I am given what I want; a small bitter smile twists the corners of the auburn-haired thief's mouth and he shakes his head minutely, as if to rid himself of whatever thought lingers in his mind.

'You're free to go where you like,' he says finally, his gaze passing over me swiftly as he looks at Karliah. 'And I don't blame you for having faith in something other than the Guild. Look, Vex is right, we don't have the resources to help you, but if you have a plan to track down Mercer and you believe it will work, you have the Guild's backing and my own, for what it's worth.' Before the Dunmer can respond, Brynjolf carries on speaking, his tone brisk and businesslike and his expression closed off. 'All I would ask is that you speak to one of our contacts while you're in Falkreath and find out if he's heard from Mercer, and if he has, remind him that it's in his best interests to continue working with the Guild.'

'Lorias?' Delvin says, and at Brynjolf's short nod, the old thief sighs. 'Aye, if we get him on side, we won't have to worry about the rest.' Delvin looks back at us. 'You'll probably find him in the Gravesend tavern. He's a vicious little rat, but rats breed fast and his network of spies has a hand in every deal happening from Helgen to Markarth.' Delvin's eyes settle on Rune. 'I wouldn't like a lady to step foot near the bastard, so do you think you can handle him by yourself, lad?'

'I'll deal with it alone,' Rune answers firmly before Karliah or Sapphire can argue.

Delvin nods in approval. 'Gentlemanly, see?' he says lightly as he throws a glance at Thrynn and Vipir. 'You two could learn something. And what are you still standing here for, anyway? Didn't our Guildmaster give you a job to do?'

'Oh, are we done with planning how to conjure Mercer from the sky now?' Thrynn says sarcastically.

'Fuck's sake, just go to the damn brothel,' Brynjolf snaps, and the sudden edge in his voice is vicious enough to end whatever jokes Thrynn and Vipir might have been intending to make next.

Clearly realising that they are pushing Brynjolf's temper, it's only a moment before the two thieves obey and leave the group to head across the Cistern without another mocking word of dissent.

 _He sounds like Mercer when he talks like that,_ I realise, my heart unsettled by the thought, although I struggle to imagine Mercer telling me that I am free to go where I please and apologising to me as Brynjolf has done. _The new Guildmaster is nothing like Mercer, and yet some stupid part of me wants Brynjolf to command that I stay and obey him just as Mercer would've done._

'Then let's go,' Karliah says, the moment the two thieves leave.

'Now?' Brynjolf says sharply, his tone still cold and seemingly caught off-guard by the thought of us leaving straight away. 'It's the middle of the fucking night.'

Karliah raises an eyebrow. 'Scared of shadows, Brynjolf?' she says. 'You just said we were free to go, and I've waited long enough.'

'And you can wait a couple more hours, sweetheart,' Delvin says before Brynjolf can reply, the old thief's voice gentle but firm. 'Give Wren and Sapphire til dawn, eh? They haven't exactly had the easiest of nights.'

I almost expect Karliah to argue, her impatience bright in her eyes, but a moment later she surprises me by nodding in acceptance. 'Fine,' the Dunmer says, albeit reluctantly. 'We'll meet outside the city gates at first light. I'll gather supplies and find us some horses.'

'I'll come with you,' Rune offers, and Karliah nods again wordlessly, although this time, her acceptance is accompanied by a small brief smile.

'And I can help with the horses,' Sapphire says.

Delvin chuckles at the raven-haired thief. 'Didn't I tell you to stop working that stableboy months ago, Saph?'

'And didn't you just say that the Guild needs all the coin it can get?' she replies pointedly, although a slight blush rises in her cheeks at being caught out and she turns her head quickly to me. 'Try to get some sleep,' she says. 'I'll come back for you at dawn.' Her eyes flicker down to my bare feet, a small smile flickering across her face for a moment. 'And seeing as you're determined to go traipsing around Skyrim again, I'll get you some boots too.'

I nod, finding myself unable to speak or even thank her as the truth suddenly hits me and I realise what I have agreed to do, that once again I am aiding Karliah in a quest to bring justice to Mercer Frey. _But I am not alone this time,_ I think, looking at Rune and Sapphire, and whatever trepidation lingers in my heart diminishes under my appreciation at their decision to accompany me and Karliah to Falkreath. _However unwise that decision might prove to be,_ I think, half-wanting to refuse their offer in order to keep them as far from danger as possible, and yet knowing that I must leave anyway, with or without them. _And I'd rather have them with me for as long as possible,_ I decide, well aware of where my path will take me and that this will soon be over, one way or another, whether Mercer or Astrid meets their end first. _Or_ _whether I fail to bring either of them to justice_ _and one of them kills me first_ _._

'Let's just make one thing clear before you go,' Delvin says, as a grin spreads across his face. 'I was right. And when the Guild is back on its feet and the gold's flowing once more, I'm expecting recompense. _You're a fool, Delvin. There's no curse, Delvin.'_ He chuckles again and turns to look at Karliah, and I notice a warmness in his eyes that I have never seen before. 'I appreciate you coming back and clearing things up for these sorry bastards, sweetheart. Not to mention I missed the sight of those lovely eyes of yours.'

The faintest smile pulls at Karliah's mouth. 'And I almost missed being called _sweetheart,'_ she says quietly, although I cannot tell if sarcasm or genuine affection underlies her voice, as she quickly turns away from the old thief and looks at me. 'I'll see you at dawn. And thank you, Wren,' she adds, her voice hesitant but sincere. 'On the way to the Twilight Sepulcher, I will tell you everything, as I should have done from the start. I swear it.'

Without another word, Karliah leaves in the footsteps of Thrynn and Vipir, and Rune and Sapphire follow. Vex and Delvin remain standing where they are as Brynjolf leans back over the desk again, his gaze downcast; I stand awkwardly where I am, uncertain whether I should be going somewhere, knowing that I need to sleep and finding my eyes drawn across the Cistern to the bed I used to call mine. _Am I even part of the Guild and still allowed to sleep here?_ I wonder, feeling uneasy and drawing my arms tighter around my body as Vex and Delvin both look at me, the blonde thief's gaze frosty as ever while Delvin only surveys me in thoughtful silence. _Does he know why I agreed to go with Karliah?_ I think suddenly, before I realise that the old thief is smart enough to put together my past questions about the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary and my sudden interest in travelling to Falkreath. _But does he know why I want to find Astrid? Did Mercer tell anyone what he knew about me_ _and my past_ _, or was that just another game between the two of us?_

Delvin looks away from me and stretches his arms. 'If only we had the coin to hire someone to write all these damn letters for me,' he says with a sigh. 'Fancy putting those quick hands of yours to use, Vex?'

'I'll pass,' she replies carelessly. 'I'm going back to Mercer's house. There has to be something left there that will help us track him down.'

I resist the urge to remind her that Karliah and Rune said that they already searched Riftweald and found nothing. _And she'll probably only think I'm trying to hide something if I tell her she'll be wasting her time,_ I think, half of me seething and half of me wanting to laugh at the thought of the Guild thinking that I am Mercer's informant. _Did they really think I would work with him?_ I wonder, before I decide I do not want to know what the other guildmembers thought about me and Mercer.

The look Vex throws my way before she leaves tells me exactly how little she trusts me. 'Good luck,' she says coolly. 'And don't worry, if you fail, we'll make sure to give Mercer your regards when we find him and cut his throat ourselves.'

She turns away and stalks across the Cistern as a bitter chill claws down my back and I remember Mercer's last words to me in Snow Veil Sanctum before he left me to die. _But he didn't,_ I think, unable to avoid the memory of Mercer's small smile when I said that I knew he wanted me to survive. _And how he said he wants me to find him._

'Well, I should get writing,' Delvin says mildly before I can wonder whether I am making the right decision in going along with Karliah's plan. 'Let's just hope we'll get word to our contacts before they hear it from someone else and decide the Guild can't protect itself.'

'Even if we don't get to them first, they'll see Mercer for what he is,' Brynjolf mutters, not looking up. 'We all did.' He pauses, and I hear him make a quiet sigh. 'Eventually.'

'And Maven?' Delvin says, and I see a scowl pass over Brynjolf's face at his words. 'She'll catch on to what's happened soon enough and you know it's going to go down a whole lot better if it comes from us.'

'I'll deal with her in the morning,' Brynjolf says grimly.

'Well, I don't envy you that pleasant task,' the old thief says, his tone light as he tries to keep a smile off his face. 'This is why you're the Guildmaster and not me. Well, that and the fact I'll still have the time to make the most of my good looks and charm while you'll be drowning under paperwork and growing more miserable every day.'

'Don't,' Brynjolf says tersely, clearly not in the mood to joke or discuss his new title, and Delvin reaches over and claps him on the shoulder again with a short laugh.

'See, it's like you're made for the job.' Delvin glances back at me, and I see something flicker in the old thief's eyes that I cannot read in the brief moment before he grins and looks back at the redhead. 'And fortunately for you, Bryn, I'll be handling the paperwork tonight.'

With a final grin in my direction, Delvin walks away and heads towards the Ragged Flagon. As Brynjolf looks up to watch him go, the faint look of exasperation on his face fractures when his gaze falls upon me, and nerves suddenly flutter fast in my stomach as our eyes meet again.

'You've got a few hours, lass,' the thief says evenly. 'Sapphire's right, you should get some sleep while you can. It's a long road to Falkreath and I imagine Karliah won't give you much time to rest.'

'I know,' I agree awkwardly, my voice hesitant when I realise these may be the last words I ever say to him. _And yet my mind cannot catch up to that fact and_ _manage to_ _form the words I truly want to say._ 'I don't think I've actually slept properly since I met her.'

'She has that effect on people.' Brynjolf breaks our eye contact and looks away across the Cistern as I see a small smile pull at the corners of his mouth, and this time there is no bitterness in his expression, only resignation. 'Although I could say the same about you, lass,' he says softly, but before I can even think of a reply, he straightens up from the desk and looks back at me again. 'You can sleep in my room. No one will disturb you, I promise.'

The nervous feeling in my stomach heightens as I remember how I awoke earlier, curled in the warm nest of his bed and more at peace than I can ever recall, and how keenly I long for that again. _But that was an illusion borne of Mercer's sleeping potion,_ I think, conscious that the thought of sleeping in Brynjolf's bed now only makes my heart beat too quickly and not entirely comfortably. 'It's fine, I'll sleep out here,' I manage to say. 'You've already given up your bed for me once.'

The redhead puts his hands in his pockets, his shoulders still tense. 'I wasn't going to sleep when they brought you here, Wren, and I'm not going to sleep now,' he says shortly. 'Look, you need rest before you leave and you won't get it out here. I can't stop anyone coming in and out of the Cistern but there's a door to my room and no one will bother you there. Use it, Wren. Please.'

At his words, I realise how little I will be able to sleep anyway. _And I'd rather lie awake on my own than with anywhere where the guildmembers might walk past and talk about Mercer within my earshot._

'All right,' I say.

Brynjolf nods in acknowledgement but says nothing, and for a moment we stand in silence again, my nerves rising as I realise I do not know what else to say, let alone how to broach the subject of my leaving the Guild. _It was hard enough leaving him when I went to Windhelm,_ I think, remembering how desperately I wanted to hold back the dawn, to delay the moment that I would have to step onto the carriage, to look back at him one last time as I rode away. _Leaving him in the magelit passageway was easier,_ I remember, thinking only of Sapphire suffering at Mercer's hands even as my lips ached with the thief's kiss.

 _H_ _e said I was the one reason,_ I remember suddenly, not understanding what he meant at the time but comprehension dawning on me at last. _When he held the blade against my throat, ready to kill me for my betrayal, he told me to give him one reason not to do it. He needed one reason to let me live._ _I was the reason._

'I'll walk with you,' Brynjolf says at last, stepping around the desk and heading in the direction of his room, presumably realising that if he left it up to me, I'd still be standing in front of him when the dawn came.

I hurry to follow him, my legs shaking a little and my bare feet chilly on the stone ground. Brynjolf is silent as he walks ahead of me and I find myself incapable of speaking either, although I am confident our reasons for our silence are different. _He's just annoyed because four of his guildmembers are leaving to_ _chase after children's stories_ _he doesn't believe in_ _,_ I tell myself, although part of me wonders if there is more to the redhead's silence than that. _If there is, I can't think about it, just like I can't think about the moment I have to say goodbye to him.  
_

My weak legs aren't feeling much steadier by the time Brynjolf pushes open the door to his room. Inside, most of the candles have burned down, and as he walks over to the desk to replace them, I take my satchel from my shoulder and drop it to the floor at the foot of the bed, wishing I could think of something to fill the silence. _But I can't,_ I think desperately, my mind torn and troubled, half-wanting to tell him everything about why I am going and to tell him that I remember our kiss more vividly than anything Mercer ever did to me, and yet knowing that I should not even want to tell him, much less feel that way. _He would've killed me,_ I remind myself again, before I realise with a strange certainty in my heart that he would not have drawn the blade across my throat, no matter what he said to the contrary. _I was the reason,_ I think again. _Just me. It didn't matter whether I had betrayed the Guild. I was enough._

'The key's on my desk,' Brynjolf says a minute later, startling me from my confused thoughts as I realise that the candles are now lit and the room is filled with a warm glow again. Shadows dance over the stone walls as the redhead walks back to the door and turns around to look at me. 'Lock the door if you want, but I'll be out in the Cistern and I'll make sure no one bothers you.' He gestures to the assortment of bottles on the desk. 'And drink whatever you want.'

'Thank you, Brynjolf,' I say quickly before he can step out of the room, not wanting him to go, not ready to voice all the tangle of thoughts in my mind but knowing that I do not want him to leave yet.

'Don't thank me,' he says shortly as he glances back at me for a brief moment, his eyes darkened and withdrawn. 'Just get some sleep, lass.'

Without another word, Brynjolf leaves the room and closes the door quietly behind him before I have even registered that he has gone. I stay standing beside the bed, regret twisting my heart, wishing that I had used those last few minutes differently instead of letting the silence endure. _How would I have done things differently?_ I scold myself, wondering exactly what I should have said or done. _I kissed him before, when I did not know how to convince him to let me go,_ I think, my skin suddenly warming at the memory of how I acted in the hazily lit passageway and how Brynjolf had reacted to what I did. _If I had kissed him this time, would he have let me go or made me stay?_

I stay frozen where I am for what must be a minute, trying my best to clear my mind and force my body to move so that I might climb into bed and bury my thoughts in oblivion, until a sudden hard knock on the door makes me jump, and whatever desire I had to close my eyes and sleep is lost beneath the abrupt jolt of anticipation that cuts through my lower stomach.

I hurry across the room to the door and pull it open with shaking hands, my nerves intensifying at the sight of the auburn-haired thief standing before me.

'Look, Wren, I need to apologise,' Brynjolf says in a rush before I can speak, his brow still furrowed but with determination rather than regret, and his green eyes burn bright into mine. 'Can I come back in?'

My words falter for a second, not knowing how to reply. 'It's your room, you know,' I point out lightly, easily, as if I do not feel the desperate fluttering of my heart at the way the candlelight catches the sudden fire in his gaze.

'It's yours tonight,' Brynjolf says, his tone blunt. 'Can I come in? I want to apologise to you for what I did.'

'You've already apologised, and I already forgave you,' I remind him.

'I didn't say enough.' Brynjolf does not look away from me, his gaze hard and unblinking. 'Give me five minutes. I'll leave you alone to sleep after. Just let me talk to you, lass. Five minutes.'

My body responds before I have time to even think or voice a reply; I nod my head in consent, and the nerves that flutter in my stomach tighten sharply as I see relief flash across the thief's face.

 _But it's not just relief,_ I realise suddenly, unable to read the bright fire in Brynjolf's vivid green eyes as we look at each other across the threshold and I find myself rendered wordless by the keen shiver that runs down my spine, the feeling leaving goosebumps over my skin in its wake.

I step back quickly from the door and retreat into the room, suddenly needing to distance myself from the thief to try to slow the inexplicably fast thudding of my heart, but Brynjolf follows me inside without another word and closes the door behind him with a sharp snap.

'Thank you, lass,' Brynjolf says quietly, before he turns around to face me and swiftly walks forward to stand a few feet away, the fire burning in his eyes caught by the flickering candlelight as he looks across at me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate to leave it at that rather abrupt ending, but Wren and Brynjolf need to conserve their stamina for the next chapter :)
> 
> Thank you to all of you who have made it with me to this 200,000+ word milestone <3 You guys are honestly the best readers and I am so honoured to have you! Thank you so much for keeping me going with this story. If you'd told me five months ago that I'd write over 200k words of this and still not be done, I'd have laughed so hard. And laughed some more over the fact that it would be 200k words before we got to the Brynjolf romance. Blame Mercer. <3
> 
> On another note, I hope this chapter was not too painful to read. It felt like pulling teeth to write, really, although I don't know why - well, feeling like a zombie because of work/life didn't help much. And I may have got carried away with Guild banter. But in any case, I hope this was at least somewhat enjoyable to read and there aren't any glaring mistakes to haunt my soul when I re-read it in the future.
> 
> Thank you again for reading <3
> 
> PS. The next chapter is sort of the start of Act Two of Wren's story... so here's to another 200k? :)  
> PPS. Honestly who knows how long Birdsong will be by the time I finish it, we've got the entire Brotherhood to get through and as with the Guild, I'm going my own way with the DB to fit with my plot for Wren's story and I'm still deciding how to pace what happens, especially since many of the scenes I've written going forward pertain to either a) Brynjolf smut or b) Brynjolf smut in Solitude or c) Brynjolf jealousy smut. Okay I'm half-joking, besides the smut I do have a lot of plot written too - and the smut is always plot related... *whispers* or will be once I carefully shoehorn it into the plot...  
> PPPS. Sapphire's the unspoken heroine in this chapter <3  
> PPPPS. I admit I'm already having Mercer withdrawals with the prospect of him being out of the picture for a while but I have something special planned in the near future... :)


	24. Until Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all the lovely patient people who wandered in here just looking for some smutty Brynjolf action and found themselves trapped in this self-torturous wreck of a story - this one's for you. I hope it was worth the (very) long wait. And get yourselves a cup of tea and settle down somewhere comfortable. I know I always comment about my long chapters, but this can't even be classed as a chapter. It's a novella. Please be kind on your eyes and don't try to read it all in one sitting <3

'I'm sorry,' Brynjolf says bluntly.

I blink in surprise, half-expecting a little more in the way of his apology. 'I told you, it's all right,' I say, although some part of me will never forget the vehemence in his voice when we crossed paths in the secret passageway, nor the chill of his dagger against my neck. 'I don't blame you for believing Mercer and for wanting to protect the-'

'No, it isn't all right,' he interrupts me, his voice hard and rushed as his eyes burn fiercely into mine. 'And I'm not talking about that. Well, I am, and I'm sorry for what I did, I'm sorry I ever drew a dagger on you, let alone held it to your throat, and I'm sorry for all the things I said, I'll never forgive myself and I don't expect you to forgive me either, Wren, but I meant-' Brynjolf stops himself abruptly as his eyes flash with frustration at his sudden lack of eloquence, the thief clearly not used to being unable to find the right words. When he continues a moment later, his voice is slower and softer. 'I'm sorry for not letting you go.'

I frown, confused. 'You did,' I say, remembering the magelit passageway, remembering how he kissed me, remembering how I could have asked him to keep kissing me. _Instead I asked him to let me go to Mercer's house._

'I meant the night we met,' Brynjolf says, his gaze hard and his jaw clenched tight. 'I should've let you leave Riften when you wanted to. None of this would've happened to you if I hadn't promised you more gold and brought you to join the Guild. Mercer wouldn't have-' He stops himself again, the fire in his eyes shadowed with regret. 'You never would've met him, and your life would've been far better for it.'

Something tightens painfully in my heart as I stare back at him, realising the harsh truth in his words and how different my life would be had I left Riften as planned rather than joining the Guild. _I'd be less scarred,_ I think flippantly, before I wonder whether I would carry the same inner wounds too. _Maybe Astrid never would've found me and given me_ _both_ _the Blade of Justice and my desire for justice,_ I think, and despite knowing that what happened to my parents and what I endured at Honorhall never would have left me no matter where I went, I cannot help but wonder how different I might be now if I had never discovered Astrid's identity or entangled myself with Mercer Frey. _I could've been free of them both, oblivious to justice and never taught the lesson of what I deserve or what I will do for my revenge._

'Then why didn't you let me leave?' I ask Brynjolf, the pain in my heart making my voice sharper than I intend as I realise how afraid I am of his answer.

Brynjolf's eyes darken, but I cannot tell whether it is regret or anger or doubt that consumes him at my question. 'I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, Wren,' he says. 'More than I could tell you in the time we have tonight. But when I met you, when I saw look in your eyes and the blood still on your shoes, when I realised you were running away from something terrible you had done or that had been done to you, all I wanted...' The word hangs in the air as he hesitates for a moment, seemingly unable to tell me everything he wanted, until I see a bitter smile twist briefly at his mouth. 'Mercer was right,' he says finally. 'I wanted to play the hero. I wanted to take you somewhere I thought was safe, to protect you from whatever you were running from.'

Despite everything, some of the pain inside me falters with the thief's words. _I still fall for the charming lines, even now,_ I try to scold myself, until an unavoidable thought works its way into my mind and I suddenly forget everything else. 'You knew exactly what I was running from,' I say, feeling a cold flush rise in my neck and I draw my arms tighter around my body, wishing I could stop the words from leaving my mouth but knowing it is too late to keep pretending. 'You knew I had been at Honorhall. You knew what happened to me there.'

The thief's brow knits tightly with my words and for a moment he seems almost as pained by my past as I am. 'I didn't know then,' he says quietly, quickly, as if the volume and speed of his voice can somehow make my memories easier to bear. 'Mercer told me a few weeks after you joined the Guild.'

I do not answer straight away, imagining not for the first time the conversation that took place between them, the words that were said, the smirk at Mercer's mouth as he described the things that were done to me. _And maybe he told Brynjolf that I enjoyed it,_ I think, nausea clawing at my stomach, remembering the Guildmaster's words to me before I slipped out of consciousness in his cellar.

'Well, it doesn't matter now,' I say briskly as I push the thoughts from my mind, forcing myself to focus on the auburn-haired thief in front of me instead of the past - except the sight of him and the nearness of his body does little to calm the unsettled feeling in my stomach. 'And I don't blame you for any of it,' I tell Brynjolf, not wanting my last memories of him to be tarnished with so much regret in his eyes. _The least I can do is set him free from his guilt before I leave._ 'This was my fault, not yours. You tried to warn me away from Mercer. I should've listened.'

Brynjolf shakes his head. 'No, lass,' he says quietly. 'I should've done more than try.'

Before I can speak, the thief steps forward abruptly and closes the gap between us, startling me with the suddenness of his movements as he stops to stand in front of me and lifts his hand to my head; I feel my heart skip instinctively, trying not to flinch or think about the times Mercer stroked my hair to unnerve me or grabbed handfuls of my curls to hear me whimper in pain - but when Brynjolf gently brushes a strand of my still-damp hair back from my face, the contact is tentative and careful in a way I have never known, and it is as if the single curl of my hair is more precious to him than all the gold in Riften.

'I should've kept you safe, as I told you I would,' Brynjolf murmurs, the back of his fingers lightly touching my cheek as his gaze flickers over my face slowly, like his eyes are drinking in their last sight of me. _They are,_ I realise distantly, remembering that I am leaving the Guild at dawn as my heart shudders with the thought, the feeling only exacerbated by the proximity of his body, the touch of his hand, and the quiet words out of his mouth. 'When we met, I said that you could trust me, that I wasn't leading you anywhere that would get you hurt.' Brynjolf's gaze hardens, and I see the fire in his eyes once again. 'I don't expect your forgiveness for my mistakes, but I swear to you I'll never give you reason to doubt my word again. And I will never doubt yours.'

Not sure how to reply, I nod wordlessly, realising that he would not accept my forgiveness even if I offered it again. _He's apologised, and I've accepted it, and now there's nothing more for either of us to say._

At my silence, the redhead says nothing either, and as we look at each other while the seconds pass quietly, I realise just how still his body has become, his shoulders tense and his gaze unwaveringly fixed on mine.

'Do you want me to leave you to sleep now, lass?' he says eventually, his voice low, the touch of his hand stilled at my cheek as he waits for my response.

With his question, the nerves in my lower stomach tighten abruptly, not with fear but a strange and incomprehensible sense of expectation. 'I'm not going to be able to sleep,' I say, trying to speak louder than the thudding of my heart.

'Maybe not, but you should probably try,' Brynjolf says. 'You've been through a lot and you've got a long way to go tomorrow. I'm sure you could do with some rest.' His hand moves to cup the side of my face, his thumb brushing lightly over my cheek as his eyes search mine deeply, as if trying to discern whether my words are an invitation or a dismissal. 'Or I can keep you company,' he says finally. 'If you don't want to be alone.'

I stare up at him, my breathing suddenly feeling compromised by the thief's suggestion and my mind racing to catch up with my body's reaction to his words. His expression is carefully arranged into nonchalance, and while his recent sleeplessness is etched into his features, his face gives away precious little else to me as he waits patiently for my reply - and yet as I meet his eyes, a warm shiver overcomes every inch of my skin as I suddenly realise what it is that I want. _I knew it from the moment I opened the door._

'You can tell me to leave, Wren,' Brynjolf says softly into the silence. 'You can tell me to leave at any time. I won't question you or try to convince you otherwise. I'll do whatever you want.'

Instinctively, I almost brush aside his words as charming persuasion that I would be a fool to trust, but when I see the sincerity in Brynjolf's eyes, I realise he is speaking the truth. _Whatever I want,_ I think, and in a painful flash I remember every touch my body has received and not wanted, and all times it has felt pain and fear. _But for once, this is my decision, entirely,_ I realise, and the words tumble from my mouth more urgently and honestly than I thought possible. 'Don't leave,' I say to Brynjolf. 'I want you to stay.'

I watch the thief's shoulders rise and fall slightly and I realise that he was holding his breath. I barely have a moment to process the look in his eyes before one corner of his mouth pulls into a half-smile that sends keen nerves fluttering in my stomach. 'That's what I was going to say to you, lass,' he murmurs, his thumb tracing over my cheekbone as his other hand rises to cup the other side of my face. 'I'm struggling to accept that you've only just returned and now you're leaving again.'

With his words, I suddenly become aware of how close his body is to mine, how flushed my cheeks feel beneath the touch of his hands, and in that moment, I realise how desperately I want him to stop me from ever stepping foot out of his room, let alone out of the city. 'I'm not leaving forever,' I say, wishing my words to be true, wishing I could promise myself that I would see him again.

For a long time, Brynjolf's eyes hold mine, the candlelight catching the fire in his green irises. 'And not tonight,' he says finally, before one of his hands slips down to my chin and he tilts my head upwards.

The thief leans down and brings his mouth to mine in a kiss unlike those we shared in the magelit passageway and the alley all that time before; his mouth is careful in its attention, parting my lips gently and slowly, until a few seconds later his tongue slips between my lips and into my mouth.

He licks at the tip of my tongue tentatively, as if trying to coax a response from me - but for the reaction of my body, he might as well have me up against the wall while he feasts on my mouth just as he has done twice before. I quickly close my eyes as a tingling warmth floods me and every sense in my body heightens to almost painful sharpness, hearing the quiet wetness of my mouth and his, tasting the mead lingering distantly on his tongue, catching the faint scent of the burning candles on the air, feeling the gentle scratch of his unshaven stubble and the pressure of him against my arms still folded across my body.

With that thought, my arms unfold of their own volition and my hands clutch at Brynjolf's jacket, pulling him closer as the warmth inside me suddenly turns to fire and my tongue answers the intrusion in my mouth more eagerly than the thief likely expects. At my urgency, I hear him make a quiet sound of satisfaction in his throat, before his lips push open my mouth wider and he kisses me deeper, no longer coaxing but claiming my mouth hungrily. I respond in kind, the sound of his desire having turned the nerves in my stomach into a sudden pleasurable ache between my legs, my hands clinging tight to him as one of his hands drop to the small of my back, holding me close against him.

Time loses its meaning as our mouths soon grow slippery wet, and when Brynjolf finally breaks apart, my lips are sore and my neck aches from the upturned angle of my head. _But I'd bear any pain to have him kiss me again,_ I think as I open my eyes and I look up at him, watching the quickened rise and fall of his shoulders, his lips slightly reddened by my eager kisses and his eyes hooded and darkened as he looks down at me. _We're not in an unlit alley now,_ I think, feeling my nerves flutter keenly through the haze of the lingering pleasure. _He can see me and I can see him and I cannot deny the reason for the fire in his eyes or the heat of my blood._

'I know you need time,' Brynjolf murmurs as I suddenly feel ungainly on my feet with the realisation racing through my mind, of what he wants and what I want. 'Remember what I said. I won't question you or try to change your mind.' His thumb traces over my flushed cheek again as his other hand strokes slowly up my spine. 'Tell me to stop, Wren,' he says, his voice low and almost begging.

'I don't need time,' I say, my words rushed and breathless as my fingers hook into the pockets of his jacket, partly to hold myself upright, partly with my growing consciousness of his clothing and my own. 'I need...'

My voice falters and I do not finish speaking, still too afraid to admit exactly what I need and want, afraid of the very feeling of needing and wanting something that has only ever been tainted with pain and punishment.

Brynjolf keeps to his word and does not question my unfinished statement, the desire inside me rising abruptly as his mouth curves once again into the familiar charming half-smile. 'That's fortunate, because time is the last thing we have right now,' he says lightly before he leans down and brings his mouth to mine again.

I return his kiss as fiercely as he gives it, my body soon tingling and my heart pounding hard as I feel the thief's hands leave my head and my back to instead move over my shoulders and down to my chest, running lightly over my breasts to the fastenings of my jacket. The touch of his hands sets my skin afire even through my clothing and I feel a jolt of anticipation at what he intends to do, at what I desperately want him to do - although Brynjolf seems to hesitate as his fingers toy with one of the buckles of my jacket, and a moment later his mouth breaks apart from mine.

'Wren,' he starts softly against my lips.

'You said we didn't have time,' I remind him before he can say anything more, not wanting to have the time to let my nerves get the better of me, and my racing heart skips a beat as the thief makes a quiet laugh.

'So I did,' he murmurs as his gaze flickers over my face, his eyes crinkling with his small smile, and without another word he covers my mouth with his once more and I give myself over to the insistence of his tongue again, clutching at his waist as I feel his skilled fingers make short work of my jacket fastenings.

The sound of the material ripping open sends a shiver down my spine and I gasp against Brynjolf's lips; he responds only by kissing me harder, his tongue staying in my mouth even as he takes my hands away from his body in order to tear off my jacket and throw it down to the floor. Unprotected by the sturdy leathers, I feel the warmth of his quick hands through the material of my shirt as he reaches for the laces between my breasts and my gasp turns to a faint whimper of desire, even the brief contact through my clothes sending a needy ache straight between my legs, my body begging for there to be no more clothing between his hands and my skin.

Brynjolf breaks our kiss abruptly, his eyes burning dark and hot as he looks down at me. 'Gods, it took every bit of my strength not to do this to you that night in the alley,' he murmurs under his breath as he unlaces the ties of my shirt in one swift motion, his voice little more than a quick growl. 'I was ready to rip your clothes off and take you right there.'

Whatever reply I might have made never makes it from my mouth as Brynjolf steps back to lift my shirt up and over my head, my arms rising with his movement before I've even comprehended the air hitting my bare heated skin or the sound of my shirt dropping to the floor. As the thief's gaze moves over my upper body, my binding still across my chest suddenly seems to constrict my shallow breaths and the blood runs hot through my neck as I remember the night he means, in the alley before my first contract, and how I felt beneath the redhead's mouth and pressed between the wall and his body. _I wanted him to fuck me, here, now,_ I think, my heart fluttering with the realisation that hits me as keenly as the air on my naked skin. _And it is here and it is now._

I hear Brynjolf swear under his breath, his jaw clenched tightly in some form of restraint, before he raises his hands to my chest and his quick fingers unfasten my binding in moments. I feel my breath catch in my throat as he swiftly pulls the material away from my breasts, dropping my binding to the floor beside us, my heart thudding and my hands hanging awkward and spare at my sides as Brynjolf steps back silently.

His gaze flickers over my body, taking in the shape of my naked breasts as the candlelight catches the deep hunger in his green eyes, but barely a second has passed before I feel nerves kick violently in my stomach. Suddenly afraid for him to undress me further, terrified to be entirely naked and exposed to him, I grab his chest and pull him close to me, tugging at the fastenings of his jacket, wanting to see him as he sees me, wanting to distract myself from my nerves. My shaking hands are urgent but useless, frustratingly seeming to tighten the buckles of his armour rather than loosen them in my haste, until Brynjolf takes over the task himself, ridding himself of his jacket in seconds and carelessly throwing the garment to the floor. We reach up to the ties of his shirt at the same moment, our fingers tangling until I relent and drop my shaking hands to his waist, feeling the material slide from underneath my fingers as Brynjolf pulls off his shirt and I am left touching his bare skin.

I barely hear the sound of the shirt dropping to the floor, my heart thudding loudly with the proximity of his half-naked body. Too nervous to look up and meet the thief's eyes, I watch the steady movement of his chest and shoulders, his breathing seemingly as shallow as mine. I reach out for him, almost tentatively, not used to having my hands free to wander as they like over a man's body - but the redhead lets me run my hands over him in a way Mercer never did, my fingertips mapping his torso and tracing every scar and freckle. _He has many,_ I think, my fingers finding several scars on his chest before discovering to my delight that the muscled breadth of Brynjolf's shoulders is dappled with sunkisses. My touch and sight are suddenly not enough for me, and as I become distantly aware of Brynjolf's hands gripping at my bare waist, I stretch up onto my toes and bring my mouth to his neck, kissing lightly down over his collarbone and across to the top of his shoulder, my lips nervous but eager, wanting to leave my kisses on his skin as thoroughly as his freckles.

Brynjolf's hands tighten their hold at my waist and I hear him make a quiet sigh, the tension in his shoulders seeming to harden further rather than relax under my efforts, keeping himself still as I kiss over his chest. My hands run ahead of me and move down his stomach, and a desperate thrill jumps through me as I feel the muscles there contract in reaction to my tentative touch, my breath catching in my throat when I consider how he would react to my mouth on his stomach instead of my hands.

I pull my mouth away from his chest and my gaze follows my hands as they slide further down Brynjolf's abdomen, and with a deep jolt in my own stomach, I notice the shape of his cock pressing hard against his trousers. Hot anticipation floods through my body with the sudden awareness, my blood drawn to my cheeks as fervently as an expectant heat rises between my legs.

I swallow the strange dryness in my mouth and my hands drop to the thief's trousers, my clumsy fingers starting to loosen the ties there.

Brynjolf's hand closes about my wrist, stilling my movement before I can finish unlacing the fastenings. 'There's time enough for that, lass,' he says quietly, although his voice is low and slightly hoarse and I wonder if his mouth is as nervously dry as mine. His other hand rises to my chin and he tilts my head to look up at him, his eyes bright. 'Don't you think I have something in mind for you first?' he murmurs, before he leans down and brings his lips to mine, finding my tongue and swiftly wetting both our mouths with a deep rough kiss.

I cling to his bare waist as the heat between my legs turns to a warm ache of pleasure when the thief's hands gently cup my breasts, stroking my skin with purposed fingers and thumbs until I whimper needily beneath his mouth and hands, almost shuddering with my body's sensitivity and the sensation of his touch.

Brynjolf breaks our kiss and his hands leave my breasts to instead slip down my stomach to the waistband of my trousers, his fingers making short work of the fastenings. 'Fuck, Wren, do you know how hard you make me?' he mutters before he rejoins our mouths briefly in a quick harsh kiss and I feel a rush of cool air as his hands loosen the material of my trousers and smallclothes away from my heated skin. 'Do you how badly I-'

The thief stops speaking abruptly as his fingers brush over my lower stomach, and the burning anticipation inside me turns to a sharp unease when I realise that his fingertips are touching the pattern of scars below my navel, his gaze downturned and studying the strange marking Mercer etched into my flesh. I watch the thief's face as a deep frown forms at his brow, his forehead creased and the desire in his emerald eyes hardening to dark anger as he stares at the symbol on my skin.

'Mercer did this to you?' he says, his voice calm and level, although I hear the edge beneath it.

 _At least I can assume Karliah didn't tell everyone_ _what Mercer did to me_ _, then,_ I think with a vague sense of relief, although part of me wishes she had, so at least I would not have to answer him now. 'Yes,' I say faintly, forcing my mind not to think about what happened in Mercer's cellar and the things he said that I will never repeat. 'I don't know what it is.'

Brynjolf swears bitterly under his breath. 'It's a shadowmark,' he says, and at my confused silence, he looks up from my stomach and meets my eyes, and I see the sudden fury simmering in his irises. 'They're symbols that the Guild uses as a way of communicating. Some of them warn off other thieves from our territory. Others mark an escape route or safe house. This one...' He looks back down at the silver-white scar, his fingers lingering on the material of my trousers. 'It means _protected_. It's a warning.' His voice is hard and grim. 'It means whatever is inside is under the protection of the Guildmaster and should not be touched.'

I feel a chill pass down my spine, cutting painfully through the warmth of my skin as I suddenly become conscious of my body and my surroundings, standing half-stripped in front of a man and his bed, forcibly remembering the last time I was naked in another man's presence. _Mercer said the marking would be a reminder to those who want to touch me, to let them know I have already been claimed._

Brynjolf's hand touches my cheek lightly, jolting me from my thoughts. 'Do you want me to stop?' he says softly, holding my gaze with a serious look in his eyes, his anger now vanished, or at least well hidden.

I stare back up at him, somewhat surprised that he would heed Mercer's warning. _But this isn't Mercer's decision now, it's mine,_ I think, feeling desperation clamp my heart tightly as I try to put aside my memories and convince myself that I am free from him. _And I don't want everything he said in that cellar to be true._ 'No,' I answer, making my voice strong as I hold the thief's gaze, forcing myself to focus on my desire above anything else. 'Do you want to stop?'

A small smile pulls at Brynjolf's mouth before I feel his fingers hook beneath the band of my trousers and smallclothes. 'No, I want Mercer to see what I think of his _protection,'_ he says in a low voice before he pulls both garments down my thighs in one quick motion, making me gasp with the suddenness of the cold air that rushes against my bare skin. 'I want him to know that I am going to touch you,' the redhead continues as he swiftly drops onto one knee in front of me, his hands gentle but quick as he frees my legs one at a time from my clothes. 'I want him to know that however he thinks he's claimed you and marked you for his own, he's wrong. You don't belong to him. You never did and you never will.' Brynjolf leaves my trousers and smallclothes crumpled on the floor and rises to his feet once more. 'I know I should say that you don't belong to anyone, and any other time that's exactly what I would say, because it's the truth, but...'

He steps back and his gaze races over my naked body, the hunger burning bright in his eyes once more, and in that silent moment I feel twice as exposed and vulnerable than when Mercer had me stripped and chained and bent over his bed, the weight of Brynjolf's gaze seeming stronger than the kiss of the leather and leaving me almost inclined to gasp with its intensity.

'But the truth is, lass,' the auburn-haired thief continues softly, his gaze finally returning to my eyes. 'Until dawn, you belong to me.'

Before I can speak or try to calm the warm nervous fluttering in my stomach, Brynjolf drops down to both knees, his hands grasping my hips as he leans forward and lays quick wet kisses over my bare stomach, his lips light against the scars at my navel. With each kiss, anticipation floods me hotter and I quickly realise the direction in which the thief's mouth is moving, my breathing becoming shallower as I suddenly grow conscious of the wet ache of desire between my legs, the feeling rising harder with every kiss his mouth places on my stomach.

One of Brynjolf's hands runs down my right thigh and he makes a quiet sigh against my skin before his gaze flickers up to me, his green eyes bright. 'The number of times I've thought about this, you'd think I'd be able to control myself,' he mutters, before his hand grasps my thigh just above my knee and he lifts my leg to hook over his shoulder, his strong grip on my hip helping me to keep my balance. 'Forgive me if I don't take my time with you, lass. I'm not a very patient man, and I've waited far too long to do this to you.' He leans forward and lays kisses along my upper leg as it rests on his shoulder, his mouth slipping quick and wet up the inside of my thigh. 'Gods, I've waited far too long to make you come,' the thief murmurs against my skin, his voice almost inaudible beneath the sound of my shortened breaths, before he reaches the top of my thigh and without another word his mouth moves swiftly to my core.

What little breath I have left escapes me in a hitched gasp at the sensation of Brynjolf's mouth between my legs, and one of my hands races down on reflex to clutch at his wrist where he holds my hip, desperately needing to steady myself. The thief's fingers entwine with mine at the same moment his mouth opens and his tongue starts to explore me hungrily; I feel my blood flare in every inch of my skin, rushing hot through my neck and down to my core as the thief runs his tongue over my wet heat, taking up my desire onto his tongue and tasting me deeply before he finds where I am most sensitive and pleasure jolts so violently through me that I can only shut my eyes tightly and gasp with the feeling.

Brynjolf's other hand slips up the back of my thigh to my ass, pulling me forward against his mouth, keeping me in place as his skilled mouth sucks at my clit keenly, alternating the effort with quick dexterous licks of his tongue, teasing me slowly, torturously, my body soon consumed with the desire for it to never end but needing a release more desperately with every passing second. My chest rises and falls fast as I try to master myself and fight the instinctive urge to beg for my satisfaction, my fingers digging into his hand and the muscles in my thighs tightening against his head, until suddenly I hear Brynjolf make a quiet groan of frustration and he seems to lose whatever patience he had; his mouth opens wider and his tongue starts to work furiously at my clit as he buries his mouth harder against my core, the pressure of his efforts making me moan desperately with the intense pleasure, forgetting all attempt to hold back or plead for something he seems so willing to give me.

The thief proves true to his word, and under the impatiently relentless skill of his mouth and tongue, he finishes me before I have a chance to even try to pace myself. My hips push forward against him and I cry out with the sensation that overwhelms me, the sound hitching breathlessly in my throat as I come hard and wet; a second later, the tensed muscles in my legs give way beneath me and nearly send me tumbling down to the ground until Brynjolf's hands grip me harder to hold me steady, his mouth still pressed to my core and his tongue not ceasing in its efforts. Gasping at the feeling still coursing through me, I link my fingers tighter with his and reach down blindly to bury my other hand in his hair, gripping his head to keep my quivering body upright more than to keep him in place - although, the thief does not seem to require my weak hold for him to remain where he is, and as I desperately try to catch my breath and regain my senses, he continues to lick me down from the peak of my satisfaction, his tongue working at my lingering sensitivity and making me whimper softly at the remnants of my pleasure. By the time he finally breaks apart to kiss over my slick inner thighs, I release his head and let my hand fall weakly back to my side, feeling a sore ache in my hands when I realise how tightly I gripped him. _And I feel the same ache between my legs._

A flush of embarrassment comes over me then, and I open my eyes almost reluctantly, afraid of what will happen next, afraid of Brynjolf's reaction to my pleasure. _Mercer mocked me, taunted me,_ I remember, although for once even the thought of the Guildmaster is dim beneath the daze of my satisfaction. _But I remember well enough that my_ _pleasure was my weakness, my submission._

As I look down, Brynjolf gently unhooks my leg from his shoulder before sitting back on his heels, holding my hips steady as I regain my balance on both feet and his gaze flickers slowly upwards over my body to my face. 'Gods, you taste even better than I imagined,' he says, his voice low and hitched, his eyes storming with his desire as I feel my cheeks flush a brighter scarlet.

Before I can even think of a reply, much less arrange my mouth and tongue to form words, Brynjolf extricates his fingers from our still-entwined hands and rises quickly to his feet in front of me, his hands reaching out to bury in my hair at the back of my head, pulling me towards his mouth as he leans down to kiss me hard. I clutch at his waist to keep myself upright as my legs quiver beneath me again, dizzy and stumbling with the taste of myself on the thief's tongue and lips; as he pulls me closer to him, my breasts press against his naked skin and I feel the hardness of his cock through his trousers, the awareness sending desire racing through me violently as if I have not already cried out in satisfaction only moments ago.

'Let me do that to you again,' he murmurs when he breaks apart, his tone begging. 'Fucking gods, Wren, I need to hear you come for me again.'

One of his hands untangles from my hair and races down between our bodies, slipping between my legs into the warm wetness he has left there, his fingers starting to swiftly stroke at the place where his mouth finished me so easily only a minute ago.

At his deft touch and the roughness of his kiss when he brings his lips back to mine, the lingering sensitivity at my core sharpens abruptly. 'Brynjolf,' I gasp against his mouth. 'Please-'

With my breathless words, the thief immediately stills the movement of his fingers between my legs and breaks the contact of our mouths, his hand at the back of my head holding me steady as he looks down to meet my eyes. 'Tell me to stop,' he says. 'Tell me and I will.'

'No, don't stop,' I whimper, reaching up with one hand to the back of his neck to pull his head down to my mouth again while my other hand clutches at his forearm between our bodies, wanting his touch, wanting to feel what I did before and for once not afraid to voice my desire. 'Please, I want you, Bryn-'

My plea gets lost as he swiftly kisses me again and between my legs his fingers start working the dull ache of residual pleasure left by his tongue into a fierce need that soon has me gasping against his mouth and my thighs clenching tightly around his hand. I kiss the thief harder and chase my pleasure just as keenly, feeling it frustratingly just beyond my reach, my body wanting but still recovering from his earlier attentions. My frustration only increases when Brynjolf's touch slows to an excruciating pace and his fingers move slide down over my wet core, and I whine against his mouth, hoping to antagonise his own frustration enough to make his attention return to the source of my sensitivity, but before I can provoke the response I want, I gasp against his lips as I feel one of his fingers slip down and gently push inside me.

My own fingers dig tightly into his forearm, my blood hot and my heart racing with the thought of some part of the thief being inside me at last, my muscles accommodating the intrusion eagerly and begging for him to put the skill of his fingers to use inside me.

'More,' I say aloud, not caring to keep the desperate pleading tone out of my voice, nor to try to ask for what I want more eloquently. 'Brynjolf-'

I feel his shallow breath against my mouth as he obliges and a second finger slips inside me to join the first, the sensation making me whimper in delight. _More,_ I think distantly as my thighs squeeze tighter about his hand and my muscles inside me grip his fingers - until I suddenly imagine his cock within me instead, imagining the sensation of having all of him buried tight and deep inside my core, and a flush stalks up my neck as I feel myself clenching wet and warm around the redhead's fingers at the mere thought.

Whether Brynjolf is thinking of the same thing, I cannot be sure, but I hear him swear under his breath again before he swiftly pulls his fingers from me, abrupt enough to make me gasp with the sudden movement.

'Bryn-' I start, ready to beg, ready to plead, ready to do anything to have him put his fingers back between my legs and inside me again, but the thief only kisses my mouth briefly and takes a step back.

'I think you should lie down for this, lass,' he says, before he lifts me easily into his arms, scooping me up with one arm under my knees and the other behind my back, carrying me to the edge of the bed and dropping me down onto the mattress without another word.

I make little protest at the somewhat unceremonious manner in which I find myself deposited on his bed, my body still weak from my release and more than willing to relieve my shaking legs from their burden. My hands bury in the furs around me and I wriggle into the soft mass of covers under me, feeling the furs slide and tickle against my bare skin and marvelling at the heightened sensitivity of my body, until a few seconds later I remember that I was placed in this bed for a reason, and with a sudden rush of frustration I realise that the thief has not joined me.

I turn my head to find Brynjolf still standing beside the bed, the candlelight seemingly trapped in the fires of his eyes as his gaze trawls openly over my body, surveying my nakedness without restraint.

'You look good in my bed,' he murmurs, one corner of his mouth curving into the familiar half-smile that leaves my heart racing. 'It's like it was made for you.'

As he reaches down to remove his boots, I cannot help exhaling a quiet laugh, the sound half a soft sigh of expectant frustration at the sight of the thief removing more of his clothing, and half a sigh of amusement at his apparent inability not to try charming me, even now. _I'm already naked in his bed and he still can't help trying his lines,_ I think, but before I can point out this fact, Brynjolf swiftly climbs onto the bed beside me and my thoughts fall from my mind as the mattress dips beneath his weight.

I cling to his bare broad shoulders as he kneels beside my body and leans over me to bring his mouth down to mine, his tongue pushing into my mouth with as much impatient hunger as he directed to my core only a short while earlier. My nails dig hard into his skin and I try to pull him down closer, wanting to feel his weight upon me, wanting to lose myself between his sheets and his body.

Far stronger than I am, the thief resists my efforts to drag him down, and he breaks apart all too soon, proceeding to kiss wet and fast over my jaw and down my neck. He stops short when his mouth reaches the poorly healed scar at my throat, the white skin tissue rippled and uneven from Mercer's dagger. _No, it was my own dagger,_ I think, watching the redhead's body fall still as he looks at the scar and I see the fury flashing in his eyes again. _And unlike the shadowmark, it's a warning to myself, a reminder of what the Guildmaster is capable of doing._

'I'm not going to kill him,' Brynjolf says quietly, as he leans down and kisses the base of my neck gently, carefully avoiding the scarring at my throat. 'I'm going to get him on his knees and broken in front of you so I can watch while you cut his throat apart.' As the thief licks at my skin, my discomforting thoughts of Mercer vanish, the tenderness of the nearby scar only heightening the tingling sensitivity that rises over me under the efforts of the thief's mouth. 'And maybe I'll do this to you while he bleeds out beside us,' he murmurs as his lips move over my collarbone and down to my breasts.

His low words and the thought of coming undone at Brynjolf's hands while Mercer watches incapacitated and helpless fills me with far more desire than I anticipate, and an uncontrollable moan escapes me as the redhead lays wet kisses over my breasts, lapping his tongue wide over my flushed skin before his mouth latches on to my left nipple, sucking hard as the tip of his tongue licks at me, just as deftly as he used his mouth between my legs. My body arches away from the bed with the sensation and my hands move of their own accord to bury in the thief's hair, knowing that I do not have the excuse of needing to remain upright this time but holding on to him desperately nonetheless, drawing him closer to me.

Brynjolf obliges and remains where he is, moving only to turn his attentions to my other breast a minute later, by which point I have closed my eyes and given myself over to the tingling sensitivity that journeys from my breasts down to my core; when Brynjolf finally breaks apart and his mouth follows the same path of my pleasure downwards, I barely feel the kisses he leaves on my skin, aware of little else besides the eager wet heat flooding between my legs again. My hands slip weakly from his hair as he moves lower out of my immediate reach, and the ache of longing in my stomach deepens when I feel the touch of his hands on my thighs and my legs part for him without provocation, my body barely recovered from its satisfaction of only minutes ago but wanting what he seemingly intends to give me just as eagerly as before. _More,_ I think again, my anticipation heightening as my mind once again jumps to the thought of him inside me, and I tilt my head back and squeeze my eyes tighter shut, my aching breasts rising and falling quickly as I try to steady my breathing. _He's thinking of it too, but I want him to do more than think about it. I want him to do it. I want him._

Expectation leaps through my body when I hear the thief move to settle between my parted legs, but as a few seconds pass with my heart thudding nervous and loud, I am convinced that I do not hear the sound of him removing his trousers.

When I suddenly feel his mouth at my core again, I whimper half in surprise and half in delight, startled as Brynjolf's tongue starts to trace circles around my clit and my hips arch sharply away from the bed, the sensation seizing every muscle in my body into a pleasurable tightness that only becomes increasingly unbearable with each careful teasing lick of his tongue. My thighs draw together to clamp around his head until the thief's hands gently push my legs further apart, keeping me open for him as his tongue continues its tormentingly precise attention at the source of my sensitivity.

 _I don't want his tongue, I want him inside me,_ I think frantically as my fingers and toes bury in the covers beneath me, wanting a release even more desperately than before, knowing how it feels to be brought to my pleasure by him, my parted legs quivering with the memory. _But I want him. I want to feel him inside my body._

The thief seems to hear my thoughts, and I feel one of his hands slide up the inside of my thigh to my core, drawing the wetness over his fingers as he explores me, his fingertips dipping briefly and shallowly into my entrance - I whimper helplessly in frustration, my hips rising once more against the thief's mouth and hand, begging for him, inviting him, until I feel one of his slick fingers slip fully inside me.

I have barely had time to open my mouth to plead for more when Brynjolf swiftly pushes a second finger into the warm wetness of my sex and my unspoken plea turns to a moan of satisfaction, my muscles fluttering easily to accommodate his touch inside me. The thief allows my body a few seconds to adjust before he pulls out his fingers and slides them back into my core deeper, crooking his fingers inside me for one startlingly pleasurable moment before he withdraws fast and repeats the motion again. My delighted cry at the sensation gets caught in my throat when I suddenly feel the effort of his mouth change, his teasing licks at my clit swiftly moving to deep sucking laps of his tongue as his fingers set a swift pace inside me, and suddenly the pleasurable tightness in my muscles heightens to such a severity that my entire body shudders with the feeling that mounts inside me.

Gasping, wanting yet afraid of the intensity of the pleasure, I force my eyes open and lift my head as best I can. 'Bryn...' I start, but his name leaves my mouth only as a broken pleasured moan, the sight of his messy auburn-haired head ducked and moving between my legs sending such a fierce wave of desire through me that I can only let my own head fall back onto the bed helplessly and give myself over to the thief's ministrations, my keen gasps of pleasure contending with the slick sounds of his mouth and fingers between my legs.

I neither know nor care whether it is Brynjolf's skill or impatience or my own desperate need that finishes me so quickly, but when the feeling overtakes me, I cannot hold it back, much less find the inclination to hold it back. The pleasure tears through me almost painfully, too much for me to bear as a dizzying heat courses through my body in fierce waves, my hips arching against the motion of the redhead's fingers and mouth. I cry out loud and long, waiting for the feeling to subside, waiting for the thief to stop, but neither happen and I can only cry out again as every tensed muscle in my body suddenly gives way except for those inside me, those clamped tight around Brynjolf's sliding fingers, the pleasure from the pressure within me still pulsing through every inch of me with every slick movement the thief makes.

'Stop,' I say wildly, barely hearing my plea through my ragged breathing. 'Stop doing that, please, I can't...'

His movement inside me stills, and with one last lick to my wet sex, I feel Brynjolf break apart and lean back, his fingers gently sliding out of me a second later. 'I'll stop for now,' I hear him say lightly over my gasping breaths. 'But just so you know, lass, I intend to make you come at least five times tonight and we don't have very long together.'

I hear the smile in his words, his voice igniting some residual pleasure in my exhausted spent body, as if his fingers and mouth are still working me into a frenzy, and when I distantly hear a soft wet sound, I wonder if I am so dazed that I can no longer feel his touch. As I open my eyes to look down at him, half-expecting to find his head buried at my core again, my gaze instead falls upon Brynjolf kneeling between my thighs as he sucks the remnants of my desire from his fingers, one at a time, his green eyes watching me.

'I can't,' I say again faintly, not sure how to explain myself, not sure even how to form complete sentences, only knowing that if he makes that feeling rise in me again, my body will give way completely. _And if I have to look at him as he licks my wetness from his fingers for any longer, my weak body will beg for him to make me come again._

His fingers clean, Brynjolf grins down at me. 'All right, lass,' he says, as he moves up to lean over my body, his arms braced either side of me. 'You can have a breather for a few minutes.'

He leans down to brings his mouth against mine, kissing me gently, leaving my taste on my lips again as the material of his trousers brushes against my hot thighs. When I feel the hardness of his cock pressing between my legs, a fierce blush flares in my already flushed cheeks, and despite my sorely spent body, I am overtaken with the desire to raise my hips and grind myself against his hardness, for his benefit, for my own - but Brynjolf breaks the contact and pulls away before I can truly register the abrupt desire much less act upon it.

'But I told you, I'm never going back on my word to you again,' he says. 'You're not leaving this room until I make good on my promise.' His charming smile dances over his mouth. 'I'm afraid Karliah and the dawn will have to wait.'

He climbs off my body and his arm slips under my back, gently lifting me enough to ease the covers out from underneath me with his other hand before he pulls the mass of furs and sheets up and over both our bodies and settles lying on his side next to me, his body propped on one elbow.

With all the strength spent from my muscles, it takes me a few seconds before I can command my body to turn over to lie on my side and face the thief, trying to ignore the dull jolt of lingering pleasure between my slick thighs as I bring my legs together beneath the covers. My heart begins to flutter nervously as I look at Brynjolf and he looks back at me silently, the reality of the situation dawning upon me as I realise I am lying naked in his bed. _And the reality_ _is_ _that this will only last until the dawn,_ I think, the realisation hitting me hard when I hear Brynjolf's words and remember I promised Karliah that I would leave Riften with her at first light.

_But down here in the Cistern, I can fool myself that it is always night._

 

*

 

For a long while, we lie in silence looking at each other. I try to think of something to say, my mind flitting too quickly as it processes the last few minutes, the memory of my breathless cries of pleasure suddenly seeming louder in the silence that now encompasses the thief's bed.

'Remember the night we met?' Brynjolf says eventually, his hand rising to gently stroke my hair, splaying the curls over the pillow as a small smile pulls at his mouth. 'When you told me that the coin I gave you would take you out of the city, I wanted to pick your pocket again and steal everything you had so you couldn't go anywhere.'

I cannot help my own mouth from turning up in a small smile at his words, but before I can say anything in reply, Brynjolf exhales a quiet laugh.

'Gods, you're even more beautiful when you smile,' he says, his voice low as his hand cups the side of my face. 'I should've made you smile more. And I should've told you how beautiful you are every time I saw you.'

'You told me a few times,' I point out lightly, remembering the flattery he laid upon me in my early days at the Guild, before I became too afraid of what it meant, before Mercer and before Astrid, before I wanted justice and before I was taught how to beg.

'But you thought I was only trying to charm you into my bed.' Brynjolf throws a glance around us. 'Well, I suppose it worked.' His eyes return to mine, his thumb tracing over my cheek, and although the smile lingers at his mouth, there is something darker and serious in his gaze. 'I just never thought the first time I'd get you in my bed you'd be unconscious.'

'I'm not unconscious,' I say, confused, wondering for one wild moment if I passed out at the height of my pleasure and did not even realise it.

'You were when Karliah brought you here.' The smile slips from Brynjolf's mouth as his thumb falls still at my cheek. 'When she turned up at the Cistern with you in her arms, when she told me how she found you at Riftweald...' His voice tails off and I watch his jaw harden. 'I can't let you end up like that again,' he says, and whatever light charm lingered in his voice before vanishes as the words spill from his mouth low and fast. 'I can't, Wren. I know that I should've let you leave Riften the night we met, and I know I've no right to ask you to stay now, but if you leave and don't come back this time, or you come back hurt and unconscious in Karliah's arms-' He stops himself abruptly, something flashing bright in his eyes as his hand slips from my cheek to grip at the back of my neck and he leans over to bring his mouth to mine. 'I'll never forgive myself if I just let that happen again, lass.'

His kiss is rough and desperate, pinning me to the bed beneath his urgency; I open my mouth wide to let his tongue inside as my hands rise to bury in his hair, drawing him closer while he claims my mouth as easily as he has claimed every other part of me. _And for the first time, I want to be claimed,_ I think, losing myself to his kiss as his hands slip down beneath the covers to my waist, one arm sliding under my body and pulling me closer until I am pressed against his chest, trapped by his arms tight around me. _And I want to be trapped, I want him to keep me here, I want to forget everything outside this room and pretend that the only danger in the world is_ _losing myself to_ _his kiss._

When Brynjolf breaks apart a minute later, his arms remain locked around my body as we lie side by side, my hands gripping at the thief's bare shoulders, his emerald eyes trained on mine as he seemingly waits for an answer, although for a few seconds I find myself having entirely forgotten what we were talking about, and I can only try to catch my breath and force myself back into the present.

'I'm not going to be in any danger,' I say, when my mind finally reconnects, knowing that I need to convince both Brynjolf and myself with my words. 'I know whatever Karliah intends to do at this temple to Nocturnal won't harm me. She's already saved my life twice now.'

'I don't want her to need to save your life in the first place, Wren,' he counters, seeming little reassured as I feel his arms tightening around my body. 'Look, I don't doubt her intention to try to keep you safe, but if it comes to it, Karliah will choose hurting Mercer over protecting you every time. Her revenge is more important to her than you. Surely you've seen that by now.'

I open my mouth to argue, not wanting to think about his words or to listen to the quiet voice in my mind that already half-believes what he is telling me, but Brynjolf continues before I can say a word.

'The Guild will find Mercer without you putting yourself in danger,' he says. 'You don't owe Karliah anything, so you don't have to-'

'I do have to,' I interrupt, my voice more aggressive than I intend, the harsh words directed more to myself than towards Brynjolf, my desire to stay in his arms far stronger than I expected and realising that I have to force myself to remember exactly why I must leave _. Although it's the last thing I want to do._ 'I do owe Karliah, but helping her find Mercer isn't the only reason I'm going to Falkreath, I'm going because I have to-'

It is my turn to abruptly stop speaking, suddenly realising how afraid I am to voice the entire truth to anyone. _Karliah knows I want to kill Astrid, and Sapphire knows I was at Honorhall, but neither know the circumstances or the reasons why,_ I think, before I realise with an uncomfortable shiver down my spine that Mercer Frey is the only person who knows every part of my past, that he is the only one who is aware of every experience and pain that has hardened my heart, every step that I have taken to bring me closer to Astrid and why I so desperately want her dead in the first place. _And that has given him more power over me than I ever could've imagined._

'I just have to go,' I finish lamely, wanting bitterly to trust Brynjolf enough to tell him the truth and to share each broken thought in my mind with someone, _anyone,_ but knowing in my heart that I cannot do it. _It will only be admitting how weak I have been to let Astrid live as long as I have, and Brynjolf has already seen me fall apart at his mere touch,_ I think, having learnt well enough from Mercer how dangerous that particular weakness can be. _And if it's either telling him the truth or falling apart at his touch, I know which weakness I'll choose._

Before the thief can answer, I lean forward and kiss him clumsily, my mouth quick against his and my hands racing down his body beneath the covers just as swiftly, hoping his unspent frustration will be enough to make him forget the subject and help me to do the same, knowing well enough the mindless oblivion that comes with pleasure. _Mercer was generous enough to teach me that lesson, at least._

I have barely reached the ties of Brynjolf's trousers before his arms release my body and his hands reach down to grab my wrists, holding me still as he pulls away from my eager mouth.

'Wren,' he starts, but whatever he is about to say gets lost beneath my kiss as I lean close again and bring my lips to his again, the first tendrils of reawakened pleasure fluttering in my lower stomach when the thief's mouth soon opens willingly at my insistence and I find his tongue more than receptive to my own.

'I want you,' I say softly into his mouth, meaning it more sincerely than any other words I have spoken, my hands fighting gently against his hold on my wrists, trying to get to the laces of his trousers. 'Brynjolf, please-'

In one swift motion, the redhead pulls my hands out from beneath the covers and pushes me over to lie flat onto my back, pinning me down with his body as he lifts my hands and holds them against the pillow above my head.

'And you have no idea how badly I want you,' he says, leaning down to touch his mouth against mine in a light kiss, but as his body leans into mine, I suddenly feel the hardness of his cock pressing between my legs precisely where his tongue teased me before, and I cannot help gasping sharply against Brynjolf's mouth with the pleasure that jolts deeply through me at the contact. 'Or maybe you have some idea,' Brynjolf murmurs as he pulls away and a small smile crescents his eyes. 'But we were talking about something more important than how fucking hard you make me, lass.'

'No, you were trying to convince me not to go with Karliah,' I remind him, doing my best to ignore the flush in my cheeks with his words and the evidence thereof that I feel pressing between my legs. 'Even though you said you wouldn't try to change my mind,' I add pointedly for good measure, although part of me is desperate for him to change my mind and convince me not to leave in any way he can, hoping that his attempt will involve his body on top of mine in exactly the way we are currently.

The smile widens at his mouth and his green eyes glitter as he looks down at me below him. 'Trust me, Wren, if I knew I had even the slightest chance of convincing you, I would be trying a lot harder,' he says, and with his final word he pushes his hips forward, deliberately pressing his cock against my core, the pressure making me whimper as heat floods between my legs at the contact.

'You-' I start sharply, my frustration piqued as I struggle to free my hands from where he has them pinned beside my head, not sure what I am even going to say but knowing that I suddenly want nothing more than to get to his trousers fastenings - but my efforts prove futile and my words are cut short by my quiet moan of longing as Brynjolf pushes his hardness against me again, my hips rising eagerly to the pressure, my pleasure suddenly and uncontrollably provoked by the nearness of him, no longer wanting but _needing_ to feel him against me, to have him inside me.

'Fine, no more talking for now,' the thief says lightly, leaning close to lay a kiss on my mouth before he pulls away and releases my hands. 'But I promise I'm not trying to convince you, lass.' Before I can even think to grab his shoulders and drag him back down onto me, Brynjolf throws back the covers from our bodies, the rush of cold air raising goosebumps over my bare skin that only intensify as the thief graces me with a quick charming grin. 'Think of this as _persuasion_ instead, all right?'

My sigh in response is a breathy tangle of frustration, laughter and exasperation, but I do not have a chance to find the words to reply properly as the thief lays quick kisses down my body, his mouth turning the goosebumps to warm shivers of pleasure, before he swiftly settles on his knees between my legs again and his hands grasp my thigh. As he leans down and lifts one of my legs to rest over his shoulder, I let my head fall to the side against the pillow, my breathing quickening in my throat and my eyes closing tightly as a second later I feel the thief's mouth at my core again, and with a sharp gasp of pleasure, I entirely forget what I desperately wanted and needed only moments ago.

 _This was it, wasn't it?_ I think as his tongue swiftly finds where I already know it works so well and I can only moan quietly with the fast deep licks he begins to lavish upon me there, some small part of my mind distantly and briefly recalling my desire to remove the thief's trousers before a warm pleasurable shudder wracks my body and every thought soon slips from my mind as I give myself over to the feeling.

With little effort and as little patience, Brynjolf finishes me far sooner than I anticipate, the pleasure peaking in me abruptly at the warm wetness of his mouth and tongue; I cry out breathlessly with the feeling that overtakes me in a violent brief rush as the thief insistently and skilfully brings me to my release. _He doesn't have to try very hard at all,_ I think vaguely as my overworked muscles lose what little tension remained in them, my leg slipping from his shoulder and my body slumping down into the mattress, exhausted from its repeated overexertion in such a short space of time. _I spent hours in Mercer's bed, but only minutes were for my pleasure,_ I think, wondering for a wild moment at how willingly I would have aided Mercer's treachery had he been as forthcoming with his attentions as Brynjolf. _I probably would've stolen the Guild's loot myself if he'd told me to do it._

Dazed by the quick ferocity of my pleasure and not entirely comfortable with the thoughts flitting through my mind, I open my eyes and manage to raise my head to look down at Brynjolf, my heart fluttering gladly as I remind myself that it will never be Mercer between my legs again. _And in any case, he would never spend so long on his knees there without wanting something in return._

The words tumble from my mouth with that sudden thought. 'Why do you keep doing that?' I say helplessly to the thief, my breathlessness not helped by the glimmer of satisfaction in Brynjolf's eyes when he breaks away, one corner of his mouth pulling into a smile as he looks up at me.

'Because I like the sound you make when you come?' he offers. 'Because you taste so good I can't help myself? Because I enjoy feeling you quivering and breathless underneath me? Take your pick, Wren.'

He dips his head once more and runs his tongue over my inner thighs, and I am about to let my head fall weakly back onto the pillow and wait for him to kiss his way back up my body when I catch sight of the thief's hand slip down to his trousers; with a warm flush in my cheeks, I watch as he readjusts the material to rest more comfortably over his straining cock, and my frustration abruptly rises far more sharply than his own at the thought of his eagerness to give me my satisfaction but his patience to delay his own.

_And I now remember what I want._

'Take them off,' I say.

Brynjolf's gaze flits up to me. 'What was that, lass?'

'Your trousers, take them off,' I demand, suddenly finding the strength return to my limbs and I wriggle back quickly out of the thief's hold, moving backwards on the bed and scrambling onto my knees. 'Now, Brynjolf.'

The redhead laughs softly as he straightens up onto his knees too. 'I've never heard you be so demanding,' he comments, his gaze flickering slowly over my naked body.

'You said it yourself that we don't have much time.' I glare at him across the bed, the warmth of my blood turning my voice equally heated. 'Take off your trousers, now.'

'Lass, I thought I made it clear that I want to make you come five times before dawn,' he says, the smile back at his mouth. 'Notice that I didn't say anything about me?'

'And I thought I made it clear what I want,' I retort, my frustration getting the better of me and I shuffle forward on my knees until he is within my reach. 'Notice that I said it was you?'

As I lift my hands to touch his stomach, the thief's own hands rise to my head, his fingers slipping into my hair as he tilts my head up to look at him. 'Wren,' he says softly, the smile gone and the tone of his voice serious. 'We don't have to do this yet. We've got enough time.'

'We don't,' I say, remembering what ran through my mind earlier and knowing that even if we have an hour or two or a whole night left to us, it makes no difference. _It is here and it is now,_ I think, and I look down as I drop my hands to the ties of his trousers and swiftly start to unlace them. 'Take these off and...' I falter, my fingers fumbling with the sudden nerves that overcome me in that brief moment when I realise what I am saying. When I force my gaze upwards and I meet Brynjolf's eyes, my heart flutters in a way that is at once familiar and entirely new to me. _I'm afraid, but for once I know that I don't need to be._ 'Take me,' I whisper.

The thief's eyes hold mine for a moment before he leans down abruptly and kisses me hard, one of his hands slipping down to my waist to bring my body close against his. As I lean into Brynjolf's kiss and open my mouth wide, my hands stay at the fastenings of his trousers between us, not yet wanting to relinquish that small claim I have made, not wanting to let go of that fragile truth that this is entirely my own decision and mine alone.

He breaks apart the contact of our lips after only a few seconds, his shoulders rising and falling faster and his eyes gleaming bright. 'Say it again,' he murmurs against my mouth, his fingers combing through my hair as his other hand grips me tightly at my bare waist. 'I need to hear you say it again.'

'Take me,' I repeat, making my voice louder as between our bodies my hands finally unlace his trousers. 'Now, Brynjolf.'

His mouth covers mine again and his tongue pushes between my lips, lapping deep into my mouth as his fingers untangle from my hair and he grasps my waist tightly with both hands. Before I can loosen the material of his trousers away from his skin, Brynjolf lifts me into his arms and lays me down flat on the bed with my head against the pillows. He leans his body over mine to continue our kiss as I wrap my arms around him and clutch at his back, drawing him closer and parting my legs beneath him, but he pulls away from my mouth and detangles himself from my legs too soon, moving down to kiss over my breasts and my stomach, his lips and tongue swifter than before as he makes his way down over my quivering flushed body.

When his mouth reaches my core, my breath catches at the quick kisses he lays upon me, my body tingling expectantly and hungrily despite having had its satisfaction more than once. _More,_ I think faintly as Brynjolf breaks apart and looks over me for a brief moment, his green eyes taking their fill of me quickly, until without a word, his hands go to the fastenings of his trousers and the auburn-haired thief finally removes his last remaining piece of clothing.

I feel a flush of apprehension when he rids himself fully of his trousers, my mouth suddenly dry with nerves at the sight of his hard cock, my eyes racing over every substantial inch of him as I realise that the wetness lacking from my mouth has found its way between my legs, my body seemingly readying itself eagerly for what my mind has scarcely yet comprehended.

Brynjolf throws his trousers to the floor but makes no attempt to move forward over the bed towards me, or even to move at all; his body becomes completely still as he looks at me, clearly registering my reaction. 'Remember what I told you?' he says evenly. 'I'll stop when you tell me to. And I can stop right now.'

'No, I just-' I falter abruptly, my voice seeming uncomfortably louder than normal. 'You're bigger than what I'm used to,' I blurt out finally, my cheeks blushing harder with my awkward words.

The familiar half-smile flashes across the thief's face, and for once the sight calms the nerves fluttering inside my stomach rather than exacerbates them. 'And I'm better too,' Brynjolf says, finally moving forward to close the gap between us, his eyes glimmering. 'But I promise I'll be gentle with you, lass. Until you tell me otherwise, and then I'll take you however you want it.'

His words flood me with desperate anticipation, and as the thief leans his body down over me, I grab his shoulders and pull him roughly down on top of me, parting my legs wider and wrapping them around his hips to draw him closer. Desire burns hot through my veins as Brynjolf leans down to kiss me hard and one of his hands slips down between my legs again, teasing me for a moment before I feel two fingers swiftly dip down and into my wet depths, easing me apart for him with steady gentle strokes - although the careful effort is unnecessary, as my body eagerly welcomes his strong slender fingers once more, aching with the pleasurable thought of him being inside me and only wanting more.

'Take me,' I whisper against his mouth. 'Brynjolf, take-'

I whimper with longing as a third finger swiftly pushes into me, my legs instinctively parting wider to accommodate his touch and my hands clutching tight at the thief's shoulders, each purposed stroke of his fingers inside me making me warmer and wetter and violently desperate for him. Helpless to the desire coursing through me, I can only look up at Brynjolf as he leans over my body with his weight supported on one arm, strands of his hair falling over his brow as he watches my reaction to his touch wordlessly, the fire in his emerald eyes burning brighter when his fingers start to work deeper inside me and my sounds of pleasure grow keener with each movement he makes. When the thief brings his mouth down to mine hungrily a few seconds later, I can barely respond to the request of his tongue, every inch of my body focused on his fingers and the heat between my legs.

'Brynjolf,' I manage to say against his mouth, and he pulls away just enough to let me speak, the fire of desire in his eyes dizzying my mind until I can only hold one thought steady. 'I want you inside me. All of you. I want-'

I whine in a sharp of frustration and longing as his fingers slide out of me, my muscles aching sorely with the loss of his touch and yet aching harder still with my desire as I feel the thief's hand on my thigh and his slick fingers nudge my legs wider apart before he positions himself closer between my thighs.

My fingernails dig tight into his shoulders when I feel the head of his cock press against my entrance. Brynjolf brings his mouth to mine in another deep kiss before he reaches down and takes himself in hand, leaning his hips forward and running his length over my sex, coating his cock in my wetness. The sensation is enough to flood me hotter with more desire and my hands grip tighter at his shoulders as a fractured moan escapes my mouth, my body on edge and tingling with the nearness of him at last.

'Tell me, lass,' Brynjolf says in a low hard voice, not moving even an inch as he looks down at me, and I stare back up at him with my heart pounding and my skin on fire with the heat of my blood.

'Now,' I whimper, unable to say any more.

Fortunately Brynjolf doesn't need any further instruction or invitation, and without another word, he guides his cock to my entrance and slowly eases himself inside me.

I hear his hitched groan but I bite my lip against the cry that rises in my throat, the pain of the intrusion more than my pleasure as my body desperately tries to accommodate him, my tight muscles only seizing tighter with the nerves that rise in me at the sudden realisation of what I am allowing to happen willingly. _This hurts, it always hurts, it always did,_ I think, trying to remind myself that this is not one of Grelod's guests, this is not Mercer, this is not someone who would enjoy my pain and want to see me suffer. _No, this is someone who could hurt me worse, because I actually want this, purely, entirely, and with all my heart._

At the withheld sound in my throat and the sudden tension in my body, Brynjolf immediately freezes and holds himself still with barely a third of his length inside me, his concern clouding over the desire in his eyes as he looks down at me and opens his mouth to speak.

'More,' I manage to demand before Brynjolf can say a word, my voice hitched as the uncomfortable pressure between my legs only heightens with his hesitation, and I tilt my hips upwards a little and part my legs wider, forcing myself to ignore both the discomfort and my nerves at the prospect of what I am saying. 'All of you, don't stop. Bryn-'

The thief seems to understand my jumbled demand before I have finished making it, and in one swift steady motion he pushes his cock deeper inside me until he is buried to his limits and to my own.

I let the keen cry escape from my lips then, distantly hearing the thief swear roughly as my tensed muscles flutter and clench tight around his width inside me.

'Fucking gods, Wren,' he groans, but I barely hear him, my other senses seemingly numbed by the hard uncompromising size of him inside me, my body aching as it adjusts to the feeling of his cock within me.

I clutch tighter at Brynjolf's shoulders before he can move. 'Stay there,' I beg, wanting to feel him inside me for as long as possible, aware that the ache between my legs suddenly feels more pleasurable than painful. 'Don't move. Please, not yet.'

Brynjolf obeys, holding himself still and steady inside me. He leans down and kisses me slowly, his tongue deep and wet in my mouth, drawing the pleasure forward inside me more desperately than I anticipate. He breaks apart and looks down at me, his green eyes dark with his hunger and an unmistakable flicker of impatience at my delay. I look back up at him for longer than I think I can bear, one of my hands rising from his shoulder to brush back his auburn hair from his face, barely comprehending the truth of how we are entwined, how I wanted it, how I chose it.

_Maybe I have claimed him._

Wanting to hold on to the moment for as long as I can, I adjust my hips beneath him to lie more comfortably on the bed, but the small movement sends a sudden intense jolt of pleasure through me as I feel his cock deep and tight within the heat of my core. Above me, Brynjolf closes his eyes and groans sharply. I raise my head to kiss him but the response of his mouth is brief and after only a few moments he pulls away, looking down at me with his brow furrowed and his eyes like wildfire.

'Wren, I can't wait forever,' he growls quick and low in frustration, his patience finally given way.

And suddenly, my own patience disappears too, and my desire floods into my body hotter and more violently than I have ever felt before.

'Fuck me,' I plead, my hands racing down his body and grabbing his hips to make him move as I jerk my own hips against him, feeling his cock inside me more keenly with each desperate movement, my voice turning into little more than a garble at the sensation. 'Gods, please fuck me, Brynjolf, fuck-'

My words are lost beneath my loud cry of pleasure as Brynjolf swiftly pulls himself out of me and slams back into my wet wanting core. I am barely given enough time to catch my breath before he repeats the motion, driving hard and deep inside me as I moan keenly with the sensation, my muscles desperately clinging to him as he withdraws and thrusts inside me again without a moment's delay, my legs curling around his hips instinctively as my fingers dig into his back, every part of my body wanting to grip him tighter and hold on to every inch of him.

As he pulls out again, Brynjolf grabs my thigh roughly with one hand and drags my leg upwards and apart, allowing him to adjust his position and move closer to me before he thrusts hard into my core again, driving his cock further into my wet depths.

The curses spill from my mouth louder than Brynjolf's with the waves of pleasure that course through my body, hearing the slick sounds of his cock inside me and the contact of our bodies as the thief swiftly sets a hard and fast pace that leaves me crying out in delight with every deep thrust, working me into a burning desperate frenzy that I am powerless to stop.

As soon as I feel the pleasure mounting keenly in me, I chase it with ferocity, my hips rocking wildly against the thief to make the feeling come faster, to make myself come faster. Clearly as impatient as I am and with no desire to draw out either my satisfaction or his own, the thief matches the fierce movement of my hips, his thrusts growing quicker and rougher, slamming his cock deep and hard into me but still maintaining a swift speed that proves too much for me to bear.

I cry out loud and long as I feel the pleasure take over, the dizzying sensation tearing through my body in ferocious waves that seem to have no end, until with an intense shudder and a scream of pleasure, I come more violently than ever before, my nails clawing at the thief's back as all the air seems to leave my lungs and I can only gasp desperately as I try to draw breath and recover my senses. Only moments behind me, Brynjolf works himself swift and relentless within my clamping muscles until with a hitched groan and several sharp thrusts, he comes hard inside me, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of my thigh and his body crushing mine in place as he finishes deep within my core.

I moan quietly as a pleasurable numbness rushes through my limbs, my head falling to the side and my hands dropping away from the thief's body, my eyes threatening to close until I feel Brynjolf release my leg and his hand roughly cups the side of my face, turning my head back to him.

'You're not leaving,' he says, breathing hard as fire dances in his eyes.

'I'm not leaving,' I gasp faintly in agreement, even my lips feeling weakened and slack after the severity of my release.

Brynjolf leans down and his mouth covers mine, kissing me as hard as he took me, stealing what little breath I had recovered and leaving me gasping when he pulls away a few seconds later. 'Say it again,' he demands, his voice cutting through sharply above the rush of blood throbbing in my ears.

'I'm not leaving,' I say as clearly as I can, meaning it in that moment, wanting nothing else but to stay here next to him, under him, with him inside me.

He kisses me again, his tongue fast and keen, his hips pushing forward and holding himself deep within me until the dizzy exhaustion clouds my mind and I whimper breathlessly against his mouth for reprieve. Finally Brynjolf breaks apart, and with a sigh he pushes away from my body, easing his cock wetly from between my legs, before he collapses on the bed beside me and draws the tangle of sheets up and over our bodies once more.

With no strength remaining in my limbs and knowing that I could not find the strength to move myself, I feel a flutter of relief when Brynjolf's hand runs over my stomach to grasp my waist and he gently turns me over onto my side to face him. He shuffles forward to lie close to me, our legs tangling as his hand moves up to brush my hair back from my face.

 

*

 

We lie looking at each other for a long time, his fingers entwined in my hair and toying with the curls as his gaze moves slowly over my face. Some part of me grows conscious of the passing minutes, forgetting to count them but not wanting them to slip by wasted in silent stillness, but I find I cannot look away from him, much less move my body. My eyes drink in every detail of his face, committing it to my memory, realising that my words spoken in the height of our pleasure were only mere fantasy. _I am leaving, and soon._ With the thought, my own hand rises shakily to rest on Brynjolf's cheek, needing to touch him, needing to commit the feeling of his skin beneath my fingers to my memory too, and a moment later the thief closes his eyes with a quiet sigh at the contact.

Something catches in my heart as I look at him, and it's almost a minute before I finally find my voice. 'You're tired,' I whisper sadly, my fingers running over his unshaven jaw before moving to touch my fingertips gently beneath his eyes, wishing I could brush away the shadows there. _The frown at his brow is lessened now at least,_ I think, feeling a small warm flutter of gladness that I could do that much for him.

His eyes open, a flicker of surprise in his green irises at my words. 'I told you, I haven't slept properly since I met you,' he says. 'And since you left and Mercer named you a traitor, I stopped trying most nights.' The corners of his mouth lift into a smile. 'But I've had far worse ways of spending sleepless nights than thinking about you, Wren, and you haven't worn me out fully tonight yet.'

Brynjolf lifts his head to lay a brief kiss on my mouth, his lips gentle against mine. He breaks apart only a few moments later and lays his head back on the pillow, his eyes searching my face as his hand lightly strokes my cheek. The silence lingers for several minutes, and I start to think I could close my own eyes and drift into a pleasurably exhausted sleep beneath the touch of his hand, until the sound of Brynjolf's voice brings me back to the present.

'I know I said I wouldn't, but I'd like to convince you to stay, lass,' he murmurs, before the small smile pulls at his mouth again and the candlelight dances in his eyes. 'And I'd really like to convince you far more thoroughly than I have tonight.'

'You've been thorough enough,' I say, conscious of the ache between my legs and feeling my cheeks flush with the memory of how easily and repeatedly I have come undone at his efforts. _I never knew I could be satisfied and still want more, again and again, and be given it just as often._

His hand stops stroking my cheek as his eyes hold mine unblinkingly. 'So does that mean I've persuaded you not to leave?' he says lightly, although I hear the quiet sincerity in his question.

'I don't want to leave,' I say, the words are scarcely louder than a whisper.

'Then stay,' Brynjolf says swiftly. 'Look, whatever Karliah's done for you, you know you don't owe her this much. And Rune seems willing enough to help her, so she won't have to go to Falkreath alone.' His hand cups the side of my face firmly as he looks at me. 'You can stay here at the Guild. With me.'

I stare back at him, my heart fluttering with the answer I desperately want to give. _But if I give that answer, if I stay, then I'll never want to leave and my desire for Astrid's justice will slip away beneath my other desires,_ I think, well aware of my own weaknesses by now, knowing how easily I could be convinced to forget Astrid's name if it meant being oblivious in the thief's arms for even just a short while longer.

 _But I also know that oblivion is an illusion, and I have had a taste of dying with the knowledge that I failed,_ I think, and suddenly I realise that I do not want to lie or brush aside the truth any longer. _I have to make it real. I have to tell someone everything._

'I can't stay,' I tell Brynjolf. 'I have to go to Falkreath so that I can find Astrid at the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary. She...' I falter, the words sounding strange in my voice, until I force myself to take a breath and continue speaking. _I am going to feel her blood on my hands and watch the life leave her eyes. Saying it aloud should be the least of my fears._ 'She murdered my parents and now I am going to kill her.'

The heavy beating of my heart fractures a little as I watch the redhead's reaction, his eyes darkening with my words but his expression otherwise unchanging, and after a few moments of silence, my heart stutters in my chest as the truth dawns on me and my hand slips from Brynjolf's cheek down to his neck limply.

_He's not surprised because he already knows._

'Mercer told you,' I say, not phrasing my words as a question, suddenly feeling conscious of my naked body in the thief's arms as my mind uncontrollably races through all the times I lay stripped in the Guildmaster's bed, caught off-guard and disadvantaged in more ways than I knew possible. _And here I am again, having fooled myself into thinking that I was doing something brave._

Brynjolf's hand leaves my cheek and moves to the back of my head, his fingers combing through my hair to grip me firmly, seemingly sensing my instinctive desire to pull away. 'No, he didn't tell me,' he answers softly. 'Delvin was worried about you when you first started asking him about the Brotherhood and Astrid. He wondered if you'd gotten in over your head, if they had something on you or you owed them a debt that you couldn't pay. We looked into it and...'

The redhead's voice tails off uncertainly, and for a moment there is silence as he looks at me and I look back at him just as wordlessly, my body on edge with nerves as the comfortable exhaustion that weighed down my muscles only a moment ago disappears and my mind tries to comprehend what he saying.

'Thieves learn to never leave a trail,' Brynjolf says finally. 'And learn how to find the trails that others leave behind them. The Dark Brotherhood don't tend to clean up after themselves. They like leaving a trail and... claiming their victims.' The frown that I thought I had lessened from Brynjolf's brow reforms deeply as he looks at me and his words seem to come reluctantly from his mouth. 'When we found out that nightshade was left beside your parents the night they died, Delvin recognised it as Astrid's handiwork, and it made sense why you wanted to find her. She had taken away your family and sent you to Honorhall. You wanted revenge.'

I open my mouth and close it silently, quickly realising how pointless it would be to ask how he and Delvin discovered that my parents had been murdered, let alone what flower had been left on their corpses. _It was a crime, an unsolved murder, it must have been documented somewhere,_ I think, feeling a bitter shiver run down my spine with the thought of the fragments of my life being so easily pieced together without my knowledge, before I realise that it does not matter, nor should I be surprised. _Mercer found out somehow, so it's not impossible that Brynjolf followed the same trail,_ I think, suddenly finding myself wondering how many other guildmembers know too, whether any of them also uncovered the poorly hidden secrets of my past with such apparent ease. _For all I know, the entire Guild knows the names of Grelod's guests and every act carried out within the walls of the orphanage._

The thought twists something sickeningly in my stomach, my skin crawling as my mind replays all my conversations with Delvin and wondering whether he had only ever seen me as a broken pitiful creature, used and degraded and defenceless. 'Does Delvin know what happened at Honorhall?' I ask, my voice far steadier than my heart, part of me already knowing that I am wasting my breath on the question. _How could he not know, if he knew about the night my parents died?_

Brynjolf's hand untangles from my hair at the back of my head and slips to cup my cheek again, his eyes flickering over my face with some dark sadness that I only see as pity. 'I never asked, and he never said,' he answers quietly. He lets the silence hang for a few seconds, until he evidently realises that I am not going to reply. 'I'm sorry, Wren,' he says eventually, his voice low and soft, but unlike before, he does not tell me exactly what he is apologising for, and his words only cause a painfully cold jolt inside my heart.

 _He knows that's not my name,_ I think as I stare at him silently, realising that he must have carried out his investigation not looking for _Wren_ but for who I really am, for the person I was at Honorhall, for the child who lost her parents, for the frightened little girl who soon learnt how cruel the world can be. _For someone I thought I had left behind with Grelod's bleeding body._

Steeling my heart, I force my body to move and I pull out of the thief's hold before sitting up abruptly. 'How you know doesn't matter,' I say shortly as I gather the covers over me, suddenly feeling cold and awkward in my nakedness, forgetting that the redhead has seen and touched and tasted more of me than can ever now be hidden by a few fur coverlets. 'You know why I have to go to Falkreath, why I have to leave. So why are you even asking me to stay?'

Brynjolf sits up too, seeming almost surprised by my question as he turns to look at me. 'Do you seriously not know why?' he says. 'I thought I'd made it clear enough by now.'

'So you're asking me to forget about killing the woman who murdered my parents so you can fuck me instead,' I say bluntly, not meaning for such bitterness to undercut my words, knowing in my heart that that was not what he meant at all and yet finding myself too unsettled by his revelation to listen to even my own reason. _He followed the same trail as Mercer and came to same conclusions about me. For all I know, he wants exactly the same as what Mercer wanted from me too._

The frown furrowing Brynjolf's brow deepens at my words and his eyes darken, at once pained and angered. 'That's not what I'm asking you, Wren,' he says. 'I'm asking you to realise that you don't have to do this alone anymore.' He reaches out and takes my shoulders, his gaze flickering over the scar at my neck briefly before he looks back at me with fire in his eyes. 'I'm asking you to let me help you.'

'Help me?' I repeat, my uncertainty turning my voice mocking, afraid to trust what I think he is saying. 'What, are you going to cut Astrid's throat for me?'

'If that's what you want.' The thief holds my gaze unyieldingly, his fingers gripping tight into my shoulders. 'If it made you happy, if it brought you any kind of peace, I'd walk across all of fucking Tamriel to hunt down every last person who has ever hurt you. Gods, Wren, if I could-' Brynjolf stops short, his voice suddenly edged, until a second later his hands relax their hold and slide up gently over my shoulders. 'Without you telling me what they looked like and the things they did and said to you, I can't find the people who hurt you in Honorhall,' he continues quietly as his fingers start to trace up the sides of my neck, carefully avoiding the scar at my throat. 'But I can find Mercer, and I can find Astrid. I can help you give both of them what they deserve.'

Before I can reply, the thief gently takes my head in his hands and leans forward to lay a light kiss on my mouth. Instinctively and despite the chill in my heart, one my hands relinquishes its hold on the furs clutched against my body and rises to touch Brynjolf's chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my fingers as he breaks apart just enough to speak.

'But I have to be here right now,' he says softly against my lips, his eyes seeming brighter at our proximity as he holds my gaze. 'The Guild is broken and I have to fix what Mercer has done and figure out how to get to him. Whatever Karliah believes, I know relying on the powers of some daedric prince isn't going to be enough. So give me a few weeks, lass. Once we're back on our feet here, the Guild will track down Mercer, and then we'll go to the Sanctuary together, or find some other way to bring Astrid down.' His thumbs brush lightly over my cheeks as I look back at him silently, my heart fluttering as a small smile briefly pulls at his mouth. 'One that maybe doesn't involve you walking into an assassins' guild headquarters alone and unprepared.'

My heart skitters and a heavy knot of uncertainty forms in my stomach, every part of my body suddenly fighting with itself as I stare at him, my heart torn between one fear and another. _I'm afraid to leave, but I'm just as afraid to stay,_ I think as I look at Brynjolf, wanting him in a way I did not know possible and yet terrified of acknowledging it fully even to myself. _The only thing I should want this desperately is justice._

'I can't wait any longer,' I say, my heart breaking as disappointment clouds the thief's eyes and I force myself to continue quickly, the words rushing from my mouth. 'I have to do this now. When I thought I was dead in Snow Veil Sanctum, when I thought I had failed, when I had to relive those moments over and over again...' The memory hardens both my heart and my voice, but for once, my memories and my words do not hurt as bitterly as before. _It's just the truth, spoken at last._ 'Karliah could've left me to die but she didn't,' I say firmly. 'She gave me a second chance to find Astrid, and I can't let that slip through my fingers. Whether Karliah helps me or not, I know where to go now, where I _have to_ go now. And I can't wait and risk Astrid somehow finding out who I am before I get there, and that means I can't stay here any longer.'

Before the thief can open his mouth to speak, I let the covers fall away from my body and swiftly wrap my arms around his neck, leaning in to press my lips against his mouth in a desperate kiss, drawing him close, feeling the solid warmth of his chest against my breasts as I lean in closer, wanting to distract both of us from the truth of my words in any way I can.

Brynjolf seems disinclined to be distracted, and his hands grip my head as he breaks us apart. 'Wren-' he starts quietly.

'And you're right, you need to be here for the Guild,' I remind him before he can say anything more. 'We can't let Mercer win and destroy this place. You have to show him that the Guild will do even better without him.'

 _And I have to show him that he was wrong about me,_ I think, before I recall what else Mercer said and my heart grows colder with both my memory and my determination to prove the Guildmaster wrong. _Despite what he said, I will kill Astrid without the Blade of Justice_ _he stole from me_ _, and without ever seeing him again._

Brynjolf's hands relax their hold on my head and he lets the silence hang between us for a long time, his eyes searching mine as some expression flashes across his face too quickly and too well-concealed for me to read. 'It sounds like you're trying to convince me, lass,' he says softly, the small smile returning to his mouth once more, although it does not reach his eyes.

'And you said you _wouldn't_ try to convince me,' I point out, trying to sound accusatory but my words end up sounding only like a plea, part of me wishing he would try harder while the rest of me wants to simply leave his bed now to make the inevitable easier.

'I know that.' Resignation darkens his eyes and his voice is low and quiet. 'And I know you need to do this. If you really want to leave, I'm not going to force you to stay. You're free, and you always will be, as long as I have anything to say about it.' He inclines his head as his fingers lace through my hair, the smile still fixed at his mouth as he looks at me for a few long moments. 'So where does that leave us, lass?' he murmurs finally, one of his hands dropping to trace down my spine lightly.

At the touch of his hand, my arms tighten around his neck and a tingling shiver follows the path of Brynjolf's hand down my back. 'How long is it until dawn?' I answer, trying to match his smile, trying to make my voice light, trying not to think about how the sun might be rising at this very moment and how my decision to leave will soon be more than just words.

The thief's hand presses at the small of my back, drawing me closer. 'Not long enough,' he says, and I tilt my head up on reflex a moment before he leans down to meet my mouth.

The troubled thoughts slip easily from my mind as Brynjolf kisses me slowly, his tongue exploring every part of my mouth for several long minutes, tasting me deeply as if this is the last time our lips will be joined. _It might be,_ I realise, not wanting to think further and simply clutching him tighter and returning his kiss harder.

The thief matches my fervency, kissing me intently enough that I barely feel his hand at my back move around to my waist before I find myself pushed back to lie against the pillows.

My legs part without provocation to wrap around Brynjolf's hips, my hands burying eagerly in his hair as he leans over me and resumes the efforts of his mouth, sucking hard on my bottom lip for a few moments before his tongue slips into my mouth again. It doesn't take long before the contact of our wet mouths coupled with the warmth of our naked bodies pressed together beneath the furs leaves me aching for him once more, and when he detaches his mouth from mine and pushes away enough to cast his gaze over me, I have to hold back a quiet whimper of longing, my lips sore and my cheeks flushed by his kiss.

'You're beautiful,' Brynjolf murmurs, his gaze flickering over me as I lie beneath him. 'You know that, don't you? You know how fucking beautiful you are?'

'Kiss me,' I beg him, knotting my fingers in his hair and pulling him down onto me, not wanting to talk or think about anything else as I stretch up to reach his mouth. 'Please-'

The thief does not leave my request unheeded, and as he leans down to kiss me once more, I make a soft moan of pleasure, feeling the hardness of his cock between our bodies and feeling twice as keenly my desire to have him inside me one last time.

I do not get a chance to make the request; although I barely hear the three knocks at the door, Brynjolf clearly does, and his quiet groan of irritation confuses me for a moment until the suddenly renewed fervency of his tongue in my mouth makes me forget entirely about what I might have heard. When the sound comes again a few seconds later, two sharp raps and one gentler knock at the door, I jump both at the noise and with the sudden realisation that there is still a world outside this room.

'What the fuck do you want, Delvin?' Brynjolf says sharply as he breaks apart from my mouth, the loudness of his voice startling me.

'It's past dawn, Bryn.' The old thief's voice is faint beyond the door. 'Karliah's here for Wren.'

'Tell her Wren will come when she's damn well ready,' the redhead snaps in one short breath before he leans back down and brings his mouth to mine, adjusting his weight onto one arm as he kisses me hard enough to make me forget about what waits beyond his door. 'And by my reckoning, she needs to come for me one more time before I let her go,' he murmurs, and I feel the thief's smile against my mouth as I feel his hand moving down over my stomach.

I run my hands through his hair, hardly inclined to argue; my hips rise instinctively as his hand slips down to my core, finding me warm and wet for him even before his fingers start to work at me deftly. I whine eagerly at the urgency of his touch between my legs, and I try to kiss him harder, but Brynjolf pulls away from my needy mouth a moment later and looks down at me.

'How do you want it, lass?' he says softly, his green eyes watching my reaction to his touch with satisfaction.

Not trusting myself to words, I let go of his hair and reach down between our bodies tentatively to find his cock, my hand suddenly feeling ungainly with the size of him as I lightly run my fingers over his hard length and look up at his face to watch his reaction, hoping he understands my request.

I hear Brynjolf's quiet intake of breath at my touch but my own gasp is far louder when in response I feel two of his fingers slide down between my legs and push inside me without warning, the expectant ache between my legs heightening abruptly as my body readily welcomes the intrusion.

'I said I wanted-' I start in frustration, but Brynjolf talks over me.

'Actually, you didn't say anything, Wren,' he points out teasingly as his fingers start to move inside my slick centre, desire flooding hot through me as my hips rise to his touch, my body begging for more.

'Then maybe I should make it clearer,' I say, and I grip his cock harder, feeling his heat against my palm and desperately wanting to feel that same unyielding hard heat inside me.

Before Brynjolf can respond or I can appreciate the sound of satisfaction he makes in his throat at my touch, the door swings open and I turn my head to find Karliah standing in the doorway, her bow on her back and her hands holding a pair of leather boots, impatience flashing in her violet eyes as she looks across the room at us.

'Karliah!' I gasp in surprise as I let go of Brynjolf and cover my breasts as best I can with my arms, relieved at least that the lower halves of our bodies are hidden beneath the furs but unable to fight the embarrassed flush that stalks over my skin at the Dunmer finding me naked and lying beneath Brynjolf.

The thief, on the other hand, seems little perturbed by the interruption. 'Lass, if you're here for Guild business, I'm currently in the middle of something more important,' he says lightly to Karliah, his fingers still inside me. 'Do you mind?'

'Do _you_ two mind?' Karliah retorts, not turning away, seemingly unfazed by the position in which she has found us. 'Wren's supposed to be on her way to Falkreath, not...' The Dunmer tails off, her gaze flickering over us for a moment until she glares harder at Brynjolf. 'There's no time for this now,' she says bluntly. 'Every minute we delay here, Mercer will be getting further out of our reach.'

'I'm afraid this is going to take longer than a minute,' the redhead replies, and I have to suppress a gasp of pleasure as his thumb presses against my clit at the same moment his fingers stroke purposefully inside me, my body reacting keenly despite Karliah's presence. 'So I suggest you leave us to it, if you want Wren to go anywhere with you this morning.'

Karliah's eyes narrow at him before she turns her violet gaze onto me, and she drops the pair of boots to the floor just inside the doorway. 'Sapphire left these for you,' she tells me, her voice brisk. 'Put them on and get your things. We don't have time to wait any longer.'

'I know,' I say meekly. 'I'll-' My words get cut short as the thief's fingers curve gently inside me and my breath catches in my throat with the sharp pleasure of his touch.

Karliah folds her arms across her body, the impatience bright in her eyes as I try desperately to master my body and ignoring the smile forming at Brynjolf's mouth. 'Five minutes, Wren,' the Dunmer says shortly.

'Five minutes,' I agree through pursed lips, trying not to react again as Brynjolf's thumb rubs against me harder and my thighs instinctively grip his hand tight with the pleasure.

Without another word, Karliah turns on her heel and walks out of the room, shutting the door sharply behind her.

Distantly I hear Brynjolf make a quiet laugh, but the charming sound is lost to me beneath my flush of embarrassment and the fiery heat of my blood rushing through me at his touch. 'Why did you do that while she was standing right there?' I say sharply as I unfold my arms and put my hands on the thief's chest, trying to push him back, although the effort of my hands is only half-hearted and the sight of the thief's smile takes away what little strength I have remaining in my body.

'Do what?' Brynjolf says innocently, his hand now unmoving between my legs. 'Did I do something, lass?'

As I open my mouth to reply, he leans down to kiss me, his tongue pushing between my parted lips and swiftly licking away whatever words I might have said, leaving me gasping for more when he pulls away and he gently slides his fingers from me a moment later.

'I believe the dawn's come, Wren,' Brynjolf comments lightly, his eyes glittering as he looks down at me. 'Now it's your turn. You were telling me how you wanted it, weren't you? Unfortunately we're going to have to make it quick.'

'Stop talking,' I say in a rush, suspecting that the Dunmer will not physically drag me from Brynjolf's bed but painfully aware that we do not have the time to find out, my mind already counting down the minutes that she has given us and wanting to make the most of them. _And I want more_. I clutch the thief's shoulder with one hand while I reach down with the other to find his cock again, grasping his length firmly enough to make Brynjolf clench his jaw against his groan of pleasure. 'Take me, Brynjolf,' I say, adjusting my legs to part wider beneath him until he surely cannot misread my request.

The tension caught in Brynjolf's jaw lessens and his smile sends a keen fluttering through my stomach. 'As you command, lass,' he says, and beneath the furs I feel his hand cover mine as I grip his cock, his fingers slick with my desire as he uses my hand to guide himself between my legs.

My nails dig into his shoulders and I let go of his cock to clutch instead at his waist as he enters me, the discomfort fighting with my own sense of satisfaction as I hear the thief curse under his breath with the feeling of being inside me once more. The thief evidently recalling my earlier demand, this time he does not hesitate to push his cock to my limits, burying himself fully inside me in one quick thrust that leaves me whimpering in sharp pleasure, the dull pain swiftly disappearing as the redhead holds himself there, both my breathing and his own growing short and fast with the sensation of my muscles working to accommodate his size.

My patience melts away beneath my desire far quicker than Brynjolf's, and I move my hips eagerly beneath him, gripping him tighter inside me to make the pleasure rise in me faster. At my efforts, Brynjolf makes a hitched groan before he swiftly withdraws and thrusts himself back inside me fast and I cry out in delight, some distant part of me remembering that Karliah and Delvin could still be outside the door and yet finding I do not care in the slightest should they overhear me. _The entire Guild could hear me and I wouldn't be able to stop myself,_ I think distantly as I moan loudly again with the pleasure as Brynjolf repeats his efforts, pushing himself deep inside me before drawing back once more.

'Faster,' I whine desperately, not caring for the dawn or for the Dunmer's order, only thinking of my impatient desire as I cling to the redhead's body, rocking my hips beneath him to chase my own satisfaction. 'Please, Brynjolf-'

Before I can beg further, the thief thrusts hard inside me, making me cry out keen and loud, but the sound from my mouth is broken by my gasp of delight as he quickly hooks one arm beneath my knee and slips my leg up and onto his shoulder before he adjusts his position and does the same to my other leg, leaning close over me and starting to work his cock fast inside me.

Curses and pleas and the thief's name spill from my mouth unintelligibly as he fucks me swift and relentless, giving me little reprieve and seemingly intent on bringing both of us to our satisfaction as hard and fast as he can. My overworked body unable to keep up with his pace, I quickly succumb and simply cling to his body as tightly as I grip his hard length inside me, my pitched moans growing quicker and keener as I close my eyes and give myself over to the feeling.

Somewhere between my cries, I hear Brynjolf's voice. 'Come for me, lass,' he commands, his words little more than a growl over his quickened breathing. 'You owe me one more.'

At the sound of his voice and the unyielding thrusts of his cock between my legs, my body gives him what he is owed, and I moan loudly as I come for him again, the feeling seizing every muscle in my body, encompassing my body in a warm vicious pleasure that leaves me gasping breathlessly for air. As before, the sound of my pleasure and the desperate gripping of my muscles seem to bring the thief to his own satisfaction, and as I draw in ragged breaths, I listen to Brynjolf groan sharply and I feel him make several deep hard thrusts as he finishes inside me, the ferocity of his movements slowing and eventually stilling in the moments that follow his release.

A deep pleasured sigh escapes me as my body falls limp and one of my legs slips weakly from his shoulder, no part of me wanting to open my eyes much less move my body at all, dreading the moment that I have to return to the reality that awaits me and preferring to stay in this precious, blissful oblivion a while longer. _No, I'd stay here forever if he asked me to right now._

Brynjolf does not ask me to stay, or indeed say anything at all, and for several long seconds that feel like hours, the silence is broken only by our uneven breathing.

Suddenly, the thief releases me and pushes away from my body, his cock sliding from me abruptly enough to make me gasp both at the sensation and at the bitter realisation that this is at last over.

 _And I suppose there's no point talking about it,_ I think through my daze, feeling the mattress rise slightly and my heart do the exact opposite as the thief leaves the bed without a word. A few seconds pass before I reluctantly open my eyes and push my weary body to half-sitting position to find Brynjolf standing beside the bed as he pulls on his trousers, his gaze fixed on me and his expression carefully inscrutable.

His quick fingers fasten his trousers in mere moments and he turns away to gather my clothes from where they are strewn over the floor. 'This goes against everything I stand for, lass,' he says, his voice strangely light as he returns to the bed and drops my clothing beside me. 'But you should get dressed now.'

'All right,' I say uncertainly, trying to match his tone, trying not to think about how he undressed me and every moment that has passed since then. _It's done,_ I remind myself as Brynjolf turns away to finish dressing, and I steel myself with the knowledge that this was my decision. _And I know we don't have_ _any_ _time left to convince me otherwise._

I force myself up from the bed, my legs quivering as I tentatively put my weight onto them and rise to standing. As I reach for my clothes, I feel twice as keenly the exhaustion in my limbs and the overworked ache between my legs, the feeling making me want to collapse back down onto the bed and bury myself between the furs and Brynjolf's body once more. _Even just to sleep,_ I think, my weariness hitting me hard, trying not to think about curling up in the warmth of his bed and being wrapped in his arms.

'I'm glad I'm not walking to Falkreath,' I say, trying to fill the silence and cursing myself when my words only sound awkward. _Besides, the ache Brynjolf has left between my legs is hardly going to feel pleasant on horseback._

I catch sight of the thief's small smile as he pulls on his boots, but he does not turn to look at me properly. 'If I had my way, you wouldn't need to walk anywhere for at least a few more hours,' he says.

I do not reply, not knowing what to say, fighting the desire to agree with him and ask him why I am even leaving in the first place. _I know why, and nothing either of us can say will change the truth._

We both finish dressing in silence, my hands unbearably steady with my clothes. _For once, I'd like to fumble and delay,_ I think, as I walk to the doorway to pick up the boots Karliah left for me. Fully dressed all too soon, I find my satchel and pull out my silver dagger and Karliah's glass blade before strapping the pair to my thighs, my nerves diminishing a little and some of my spent strength returning to my body with the small action. _I need to practise with Rune some more like I used to, and I will have to return Karliah's borrowed dagger and replace it with my own, but at least right now I'm not leaving defenceless, and I'm not leaving alone._

Nevertheless, the moment when I sling my satchel over my shoulder as both the thief and I stand dressed and ready to leave is far harder to bear than I anticipate, and suddenly it is as if all the time that has passed since I stepped foot into his room has already faded to mere memory. Before I can let either my mind dwell upon it or my gaze linger on him for too long, I turn away and walk quickly to the door, deciding that a brief goodbye is better than drawing out the inevitable, but I've barely taken two steps before Brynjolf catches my hand and pulls me back to face him.

His expression is still distinctly closed-off, and something hard and resigned darkens his eyes, but the sight of him is enough to make me forget any staid goodbyes that I had thought to say, my mind suddenly distracted by the thief's tousled hair still messy from my fingers, the broadness of his shoulders and how they felt gripped beneath my hands, the way his skilled mouth finished me more times than I knew possible.

'Take this, lass,' Brynjolf says, and in my distraction, I feel him place something small and cold into my palm.

As his hand lets go of mine, I look down in surprise to find a small scarlet gem in my palm, the shard oval shaped and roughly the size of a coin, the ruby seeming like a drop of bright red blood in my hand.

'This must be worth a fortune,' I say in awe, looking back up at Brynjolf with wide eyes, but my surprise only heightens when I see him shake his head in response.

'Turn it over,' he says, and I obey, looking down to study the other side of the gem. 'It's flawed, and see that crack there? The colour's off, too. It's just a trick, an illusion... it looks valuable from one side, but to be truthful, lass, it's not worth shit.'

'You're really selling it to me,' I say lightly, to which Brynjolf laughs, the sound leaving a keen flutter in my lower stomach.

'I'm not selling it to you, lass, I'm giving it to you,' he tells me. 'And it's not about its value, else I'd have thrown it away long ago and I'd be giving you something worth a whole lot more. This ruby...' The thief tails off, some memory darkening his eyes momentarily and a bitter expression flashing across his face too briefly for me to read. 'Well, I've never been caught since I stole it,' he says finally, the look in his eyes disappearing as quickly as it came. 'Just carry it with you, all right? I'm not one for superstition, and I know the damn thing is just a worthless gem, but maybe some of its luck will go with you, when you're wandering around Skyrim in the company of assassins and Nightingales.'

I open my mouth and close it wordlessly, not sure how to reply, the gesture meaning more to me than I can say. 'I'd rather you keep it,' I answer eventually, holding the gem back out to him. 'It's yours, and whether you believe it's lucky or not, it's kept you safe and free.'

'Well, I'm more inclined to think that it's my incredible skill that's kept me safe and free, Wren,' he says easily with a smile, not moving to take the ruby. 'To be honest, it's just weighing down my pockets.'

'Keep it,' I say again more firmly, grabbing his hand and pushing the gem back into his palm before he can argue, not wanting to imagine returning to Riften and finding him in a prison cell or worse. _Superstition or not, I couldn't bear thinking that it was my fault._

Brynjolf looks at me for a few silent moments, his smile lingering at his mouth, until his fist closes about the ruby and he sighs quietly. 'All right, lass,' he says, tucking the gem back into his pocket. 'I suppose between Sapphire and Karliah, you'll have no need of Rune to keep you safe, much less need to carry a worthless gem around with you. Just watch out for yourself, all right? I don't want to-' He stops abruptly, shaking his head minutely, and whatever he was going to say never makes it out of his mouth. 'Just take care out there, Wren.'

Before I can reply, the thief steps around me and heads to the door, the echoes of rushing water growing louder as he pulls it open, something catching in my heart with the familiarity of the sound and with the thief's words, wanting to reassure him that I will be safe but knowing I cannot promise such a thing to him or to myself.

Steeling my heart, I walk forward and step out of Brynjolf's room, my unsteady caution only partly due to the thief's thorough attempts to convince me, some part of me feeling that for the time we have spent together in his room, I half-expect the world outside to have changed, for the Guild to be miraculously back on its feet and for the Cistern to be filled with voices and laughter and the sound of coins clinking. With Brynjolf at my side, we walk silently along the passageway and step out into the main cavern of the Cistern to find that the place is exactly the same as it was when we left it, the silence broken only by the sound of rushing water and the cavern empty save for Delvin leaning over the Guildmaster's desk, stacks of papers laid out before him.

The old thief straightens up from the desk as we approach, his gaze flickering over the pair of us with a small innocent grin forming at his mouth, and I realise that either the old thief is good at hiding his reaction or he is not in the least surprised to find us dishevelled and clearly not having slept for a moment. Under Delvin's gaze, a warm flush rises in my cheeks before I can stop it, remembering what Brynjolf and I had been doing at the moment of Delvin's interruption and suddenly feeling conscious of my cries of pleasure that he may have overheard.

'Where is she, then?' Brynjolf says when we come to stand before the desk, his voice edged.

Delvin doesn't need to ask who the redhead means. 'Waiting in the graveyard,' he answers. 'And I've got some papers requiring your signature, Guildmaster.'

'Fucking gods, Del, don't call me that,' Brynjolf says sharply. 'And you can sign them, can't you?'

The old thief laughs. 'Delegating already, hm?' he says. 'And no, lad, I've written the damn things, you can at least put your name to them.' Before Brynjolf can speak, Delvin turns to me. 'I'm sorry to see you fly away so soon,' he says. 'Mercer leaving this place barren and dry of gold doesn't even compare to how bleak the Guild will be without you, lovely bird. I'm still hoping you'll change your mind and grace these dark caverns with your beauty a while longer.'

His flattery is laid thick, and yet I still find my heart warming slightly with his sentiment nonetheless. 'You surely know where I'm going, and why,' I say, doing my best not to think about the other truths he surely knows about me.

'Aye, that I do,' the old thief replies. 'I should beg your forgiveness for not telling you where the Sanctuary was a long time ago, darlin', but it was for the best, you understand. You've no doubt got yourself a plan in mind now, and I'm not one to stand in a beautiful woman's way, but we look after our own here, all right? Give us time to handle our little mess here and we'll work something out.'

At my confused look, Delvin grins and reaches out for my hand.

'Astrid is beautiful, and deadly, and frankly all that I hold dear in a woman,' he tells me lightly. 'But you're a part of the Thieves Guild, sweetheart, and that's all there's to say about it.' He brings my hand to his mouth and lays a brief kiss upon my knuckles, just as he did the first time I met him. 'And besides, maybe the Dark Brotherhood is due a change of leadership, just like we've had here.' He grins as he straightens up and glances at Brynjolf. 'Anyway, I expect our new Guildmaster has already made up his mind to, ah, renegotiate our existing arrangement with the Brotherhood.'

'Didn't I just tell you not to call me that?' Brynjolf says, irritation drawing a deep frown at his brow.

Delvin laughs again as he looks back to me and releases my hand. 'Maybe you've got the right idea in leaving with Karliah, darlin',' he says. 'Nocturnal's surely better company than this one. And the poor lad hasn't even been to see Maven Black-Briar yet.'

'Thanks for brightening my whole damn morning,' Brynjolf says sarcastically, before I feel his hand pressing at the small of my back to guide me away. 'Come on, lass.'

'Take care, love,' Delvin says to me as we turn away. 'And don't worry, everything will work itself out, all right? The gold will flow again, and we'll all get back to doing what we do best around here. You'll see.'

'I hope so,' I say with a smile, wanting him to be right, trying to visualise Delvin's assertion and finding the resulting image more comforting than I anticipate. _If he's right and everything works out,_ _I can come back to the Guild_ _with a clear conscience and heart_ _, without Mercer_ _and_ _Astrid_ _haunting my mind and body_ _._

Distracted by my thoughts, I do not speak as we walk through the cavern and leave the Cistern, and Brynjolf remains silent too, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Out in the passageway leading to the ladder, my heart starts to beat faster, my mind racing over a myriad of my memories, recalling when I walked along here in Brynjolf's company for the first time, my encounter with Mercer after Astrid kidnapped me, the night I passed out and slipped into oblivion by the door after my contract in the canals, the moment Brynjolf confronted me about Mercer. _And now I'm leaving,_ _and this time I don't know if I'll ever actually be coming back_ _._

To my despair, my feet keep up with the quick pace of my heart, and before I have managed to settle my mind, we arrive at the foot of the ladder all too soon. Brynjolf stops and gives a sharp tug on the chain at the wall, and far above I hear the sound of the tomb opening in the graveyard.

The auburn-haired thief turns to face me, and without a word he steps close and raises his hands to my head. As I instinctively reach out to hold his waist, he cups my cheeks gently and looks down at me for several long seconds, the magelight lanterns casting shadows beneath his eyes, reminding me of when we met in the passageway upon my return to Riften. _And now he's letting me go again._

Before I can think of something to say, one of Brynjolf's hands drops down to my neck and his thumb traces over the scar at my throat gently. 'The last time you left, you came back with this,' he says softly, the frown deepening at his brow. 'Swear to me that you'll be careful, Wren.'

I nod silently, suddenly feeling my throat choked and unable to make words, well aware that the dim sensitivity lingering at the scar across my neck is the least of the reason why.

At my lack of reply, Brynjolf leans down and touches his lips against mine in a light kiss. 'I said swear it, lass,' he murmurs against my mouth.

'I swear,' I say. 'I'll be careful.'

I hear him make a quiet sigh, and with one last brief kiss, Brynjolf breaks apart and his hands fall away before he gestures to the ladder beside us. 'Off you go, then,' he says lightly, and the magelight dances over the half-smile that suddenly forms at his mouth. 'I'd come with you above ground, but I think I'll prefer the view of watching you go from down here.'

The sight of his smile makes my heart flutter dangerously fast in my chest, and before I can think twice, I reach up to wrap my arms around his neck, stretching onto my toes and pulling him down to meet my open mouth in a desperate hungry kiss, wanting to take my last taste of his mouth, wanting to feel him close to me one last time. Immediately the thief's hands grip at my waist and he draws my body firmly against him, returning my kiss as ardently as I give it, and for a few precious seconds, I forget everything as I cling to Brynjolf, holding on to the last few moments of oblivion as tightly as I hold onto his body.

To my disappointment, the moment ends too soon as Brynjolf pulls away abruptly after only a few seconds. 'I don't know how the fuck I'm supposed to get through the day,' he mutters, his eyes dark and frustrated, his hands still gripping my waist. 'Even just thinking about you will get me hard, lass.'

I try to ignore my warm flush of desire at his words. 'Don't worry, you've got your meeting with Maven to help with that,' I say lightly, and despite my best attempts to resist, my legs suddenly feel weak at the sound of Brynjolf's groan in response to my teasing.

'How kind of you to remind me,' he murmurs, his voice low and his eyes glittering as he looks down at me. 'So you get me hard and then send me off to suffer Maven fucking Black-Briar alone. I'll make you pay for that, Wren.'

'Oh really, when?' I say, only half-joking, part of me begging for him to tell me when I will see him again and he will have the opportunity to pay me back.

'Soon enough, lass.' Brynjolf leans down to lay one last hard kiss on my lips before he releases his hold on my waist. 'Soon enough.' He steps back out of my reach and gestures to the ladder again. 'Karliah's waiting.'

Knowing that I cannot delay any longer, I comply and turn away before I can think any further, grasping at the rungs of the ladder and starting to climb, the effort required to hoist my weary body upwards more than enough to distract my mind from what I am leaving behind below me and what is ahead of me.

When I reach the top of the ladder and I heave my body to stand upright in the small tomb, a light rain is falling outside in the graveyard, filling the chilly dawn air with its fresh wet scent, and I find Karliah standing just inside the tomb, her hood raised over her head and her bow fastened to her back.

At my arrival, she unfolds her arms and steps forward to me. 'That was longer than five minutes,' she says bluntly.

'I'm sorry,' I say, not wanting to think about those five minutes or any of the time before, fighting the urge to climb back down the ladder into the dark familiar Cistern and never set foot even in the mere direction of the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary. _I'd choose gold over blood, and_ _right now I'd rather be lost beneath Brynjolf's touch than chase my longing for revenge._

Whether Karliah can read my thoughts or see my reluctance in my eyes, I cannot tell, but the impatient frown at her brow seems to lessen slightly. 'Rune and Sapphire are waiting for you,' she says before she turns away. 'Let's get going, Wren.'

I nod, wondering if the Dunmer mentioned the two thieves intentionally to set my mind at ease and drawing more comfort from her words than she perhaps realises. _I'm not alone,_ I think, as I pull up my hood and follow Karliah through the graveyard. _Whatever I am leaving behind, I'm not alone._

The misty rain falls cold as we walk through the city and I hurry to keep up with Karliah's quick strides. As I put my hands in my pockets to keep them warm, my fingers brush against something small and cool inside the left pocket of my trousers. Startled, my heart skips sharply when I withdraw my hand and pull out a small oval ruby, my feet slowing their pace as I recognise it as the gem that Brynjolf tried to give me earlier.

 _He must have slipped it into my pocket,_ I realise with a strange fluttering in my stomach, part of me wanting to go back to the Cistern and return the gem to the thief, demanding that he take it back as I told him to. _But even if I could force him to keep it, Karliah won't wait_ _for me_ _any longer,_ I think, glancing up to make sure she is still in sight further down the alley before I look back down at the scarlet shard in my hand. _And if this really is lucky and means something to him, all I can do is keep it safe until I can give it back._

I close my fingers around the ruby and put my hand back into my pocket, a strange calmness settling in my heart as I hurry to catch up with Karliah, my legs seeming steadier as I follow her through the city with my hands in my pockets, the flawed gem pressed hard against my warm palm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it through all of that in one go, have a gold star <3 I hope your eyes are okay. Remember to take a break and have a few minutes away from the screen now! You've earned it if you got through this update.
> 
> Here comes my little list of apologies...  
> Firstly, I am sorry for the delay. Thank you so much for your patience! Various insecurities and sadness aside, I've had little time to write this chapter, thanks to work being extremely hectic and draining – and more than that, this update clocks in at a ridiculous 23.5k words and it was a fucking beast to write and edit. Which leads me on to apology number two, which is to say please forgive me for any errors! I know there will be many. This one was too long to do a thorough edit, so I'm sorry for mistakes and if it reads laboriously or drags in places.  
> Leading on from that, I'm sorry if this is bad smut. It feels like I haven't written any smut in ages (consensual or otherwise) and nowadays I naturally tend to ignore the advice that 'less is more'. Because apparently I can't just write 1000 words of 'they fuck'. Instead I write it torturously slow and deliberate, just how Wren doesn't like it... at least Brynjolf has as little patience as she does. But rest assured that the future smut I have written is a lot more concise. I just could not summon the energy to edit this one down. Also, please excuse the clunky line breaks, there were no natural places to put them but I am super conscious that this chapter is insane in length and I needed to break this shit up somewhere.
> 
> On a related note, I really miss posting every weekend, or at least every other weekend. Naturally, this will be the longest 'chapter' I ever write, and I hope not to take another three weeks to write an update again. To be fair, this one is technically about three chapters long (and that's my 7k chapter sizes too!) so I'm telling myself that I haven't really fallen behind, I've just saved all the content for one supersized update... :)  
> But in any case, Wren's off to Falkreath and she has lots of things to get done going forward, and although I'm still working out a few little plot points for the next arc, I hope to get back into doing regular and (slightly) more concise updates. Else we'll still be here in a year's time and poor Wren will never get to her happy ending.
> 
> Lastly, my sincerest thanks for all your comments and kudos. I've said it before, but I can't tell you how much I appreciate your kind words and your interest in this story. Thank you <3 <3


	25. Unanswered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive any errors, I haven't edited thoroughly. Thank you for your patience <3

'And you're dead.' I press the tip of my silver dagger to the leathers protecting Rune's heart. 'Killed by your own blade, no less.'

The dark blond thief laughs, raising his twin daggers in surrender as I stand before him, holding him at knifepoint. 'All right, I'll give you that one,' Rune says. 'But you know I was going easy on you. If I was actually trying, I'd have you down in ten seconds.'

'Oh, is that so?' I dart backwards and readjust my hold on my daggers, turning my body slightly to the side and readying myself for another bout. 'That's easy to say when you're dead.'

Rune grins and takes his own stance. 'Let's just see about that,' he says, before he lunges forward and I sidestep the thief's cut, his red steel dagger missing my shoulder by a hair, and I strike out with my blades.

Rune is quicker on his feet than I anticipate, and for a short while we dance between each other's cuts until by some fluke I catch him from the side and I manage to get Karliah's glass dagger pointed cleanly at Rune's chest for the second time.

'Dead again,' I say, trying not to sound too surprised by my victory.

Rune only grins, seemingly not inclined to argue my success. 'Best of five,' he says, and I'm only too happy to oblige.

'You should learn to use a bow,' Karliah puts in as she watches our daggerplay from beside the fire, her own bow cradled on her lap while her fingers tease the string gently.

'We've already tried that,' Sapphire tells the Dunmer from the other side of the fire, clearly remembering as I do my training during my early days at the Guild and how Niruin was not the only one who despaired at my lack of skill. 'She's not very good at it.'

'I am here, you know,' I say irritably, turning my head to find the raven-haired thief rolling her eyes.

'And you're not very good with a bow,' she says plainly. 'Better to tell you now before you get yourself killed.'

Although I know she is right, I'm about to retort when I suddenly feel the touch of steel against my neck and an uncontrollable sharp jolt of fear leaps through my body, all the breath cut from from my lungs in that brief moment as the world around me turns dark and cold and I smell blood and decay on the air.

'Now you're dead, Wren,' Rune says lightly, the familiar sound of his voice returning me to the present, yet the panicked racing of my heart takes a few seconds to subside. 'You shouldn't turn your back until you've got the enemy on the ground, and even then you should keep your eyes on them. You don't know if they're only playing dead.'

'I know,' I say, quickly stepping backwards out of the reach of his daggers, my heart still skipping uneasily with my memories as I breathe deeply to rid myself of the scent of my open flesh and the dank chill of Snow Veil Sanctum. _If I'd watched my back, I wouldn't already have a scar across my neck,_ I think, before the rest of Rune's words hit me and a shiver races down my spine. _Mercer might be gone, but I know he's only playing dead._ 'I think I'm done practising tonight,' I say, slipping my daggers back into their sheathes and dropping down onto my knees beside the fire. 'We'll call it a draw, all right?'

To my relief, Rune does not question me as I raise my hands to the magical flames in an attempt to banish the chill inside me. 'Fair enough,' he says. 'You did really well, you know. You've improved a lot in just a couple of days.' He is about to sheathe his own weapons when his gaze falls upon Karliah. 'Want to practise?'

She looks at him in surprise. 'No, I was going to...' she starts to reply, before she suddenly seems to rethink her answer and closes her mouth for a moment. 'All right,' she says finally, placing her bow on the ground and rising to her feet as she draws her glass dagger from her thigh.

Rune sheathes one of his blades to make their bout fair, although I wonder if he would be wiser to arm himself as highly as he can when facing Karliah, who launches forward with an attack so fast I can barely follow the flurry of her dagger and her feet. To Rune's credit, the thief matches her pace for longer than I expect, and after half a minute, he almost lays a strike on her, until suddenly the place where Karliah was standing is nothing but empty shadows - and before I can even blink, the Dunmer stands behind Rune's back with her glass dagger pressed lightly between his shoulder blades.

Rune freezes with his hands raised in surrender, evidently as caught off-guard as I am by the speed of the Dunmer's movement, but Karliah releases him just as swiftly and steps back, twirling her dagger in her hand.

'Were you going easy on me too?' she says, her tone light and a rare smile breaking across her face as Rune turns around.

'I don't think I need to,' he tells her. 'That was... impressive.'

The smile lingers on her plum lips for a brief moment before her mouth abruptly returns to a straight line and she sheathes her dagger with a sharp snap. 'Thanks,' she says, before she returns to the fire and picks up her bow. 'I'm going to catch us some more food. We don't want to waste any time tomorrow.'

'Cold rabbit haunches and sleeping in the saddle,' Sapphire mutters sarcastically under her breath as Rune sheathes his own dagger too. 'Who knew travelling to the temple of a daedric prince would be so much fun?'

Karliah raises an eyebrow at the raven-haired thief. 'Cold meat is better than nothing,' she points out as she pulls her hood over her head and picks up her quiver of arrows. 'And you're not in the saddle now, are you? You all demanded we stop for the night, so do what you wanted and go to bed.'

'Bed?' Sapphire repeats, casting a pointed gaze at the tattered bedrolls and furs we stole from the small village we passed through just outside Riften. 'That's a little generous, isn't it?'

Karliah makes a quiet sigh. 'If you'd like to carry around a feather mattress, be my guest,' she says.

'I'm just saying, between the four of us, we can steal more than enough gold to get a room at an inn,' Sapphire says. 'We don't have to sleep in damn caves, you know.'

'We'd draw attention to ourselves if we went to an inn,' Karliah says as if it's obvious. 'Mercer might have spies watching us and they could tell him where we are.'

Sapphire stares at her coolly, one dark eyebrow raised. 'And here I thought bringing Mercer to us was the whole point,' she says sarcastically.

'Yes, we want him to catch us off-guard out here in the open and shove a knife in our backs,' Karliah says, matching both her sarcasm and the cool glare in her eyes.

'All right,' I say sharply before Sapphire can retort, having come to the conclusion in that last few days that the two female thieves are too similar for their own good, and neither will back down without some form of intervention. 'I would actually like to get some sleep tonight, on a bed or otherwise. If you two don't mind, of course.'

 _And talking about Mercer shoving a knife in our backs isn't going to help me sleep,_ I add in my head, the chill inside me intensifying with the thought as I feel a small twinge run through the scar across my throat. _If staying away from inns and civilisation will keep Mercer from catching us unawares, then I'll sleep in the saddle or in all the_ _cold damp_ _caves Karliah wants._

I cannot tell whether Sapphire can read my mind, as she only rolls her eyes before turning her gaze back to the fire without another word, but it is enough for me to know she has dropped the argument at my request.

Karliah drops it too, and she turns away from the fire with only a few last words. 'Then get some sleep, Wren, because we're leaving before dawn, and with any luck we'll be at the Twilight Sepulcher by nightfall,' she says briskly. 'I'll be back soon.' Before she walks away, she throws another glance at Sapphire, a brief flash of laughter in her eyes. 'Probably only with some very tough rabbit.'

Sapphire makes a short scoff of laughter but otherwise does not rise to it, and Karliah disappears out of the small dank cave in which we have made our camp for the night. Rune watches the Dunmer go before he settles down at the fire beside us, and I keep my hands held close to the hot flames, feeling the familiar rush of relief towards Karliah's skill with magic. _Even though_ _her impatience usually wins out over the need for food and rest, she tries to keep us warm at least, and she listens eventually when we demand to stop for the night._

The raven-haired thief starts to lay out her bedroll, cursing quietly under her breath. 'Remind me why I agreed to help you,' she says, before she glances up at me. 'Actually, remind me why _you_ agreed to help her.'

'You know why,' I say, thinking of the conversation that I had with the three thieves the night after we left Riften, when Karliah begrudgingly agreed to stop to rest after gruelling hours of riding and I just as reluctantly admitted to myself that I needed to tell them the truth about my desire to go to Falkreath. _They trusted me enough to offer their help, I know I have to give them my trust in return._

'But this Nightingale ritual isn't going to help us kill Astrid,' Sapphire points out, not for the first time. 'I told you, we should just go straight to the Sanctuary. We infiltrate the Brotherhood, we get close to Astrid, and we kill her. That's all there is to it, Wren.'

My heart warms more fiercely than the fire at her words, far more appreciative of her loyalty than I can say, conscious that unlike Rune and Karliah, Sapphire knows all the ways in which Astrid changed my life when the assassin orphaned me. _I_ _once_ _told her about Grelod's guests, when she told me about the bandits who hurt her,_ I remember, although nothing could have compelled me to repeat what happened to me at Honorhall to Rune and Karliah. _Telling them about Astrid was enough. They know what I'm doing, and why. They don't need to know every scar that has been left upon me._

'I don't know how many other people are at the Sanctuary,' I say, still afraid to even think seriously about what I am intending to do and how unprepared I am for what awaits me. _And how I'll be leading whoever follows me_ _into not only danger but to a place riddled with_ _death._ 'We can't just walk in there and hope for the best. We need all the help we can get. Karliah has offered that help.'

'Partly,' Sapphire says. 'First we have to help her by communing with a daedric prince, who in exchange will magically materialise Mercer Frey out of the fucking air.'

'Saph,' Rune starts warningly, but the raven-haired thief ignores him.

'And how far can we even trust what she's told us?' she continues. 'Maybe she's right, maybe the Nightingales aren't just a myth and Mercer has betrayed them as well as the Guild, but do you actually believe that returning this Skeleton Key will earn Nocturnal's favour and somehow save the Guild from ruin?'

'Karliah believes it and that's enough,' Rune answers sharply before I can even open my mouth to respond. 'Just drop it, Saph. We've agreed to help her, so we're helping her.'

Sapphire blinks in surprise at his tone, but it is only a moment before she quickly gathers herself. 'At what cost?' she says, before she looks back at me. 'She hasn't told you what this ritual actually involves, has she?'

I do not answer right away, not wanting to acknowledge the truth in Sapphire's words, conscious that Karliah has been forthcoming enough with telling us about Nocturnal and how Mercer, Gallus and Karliah herself were part of the mysterious trinity of thieves known as the Nightingales - but as for the ritual she expects me to perform when we arrive at the Twilight Sepulcher, she has only sworn it will not hurt me in any way. _But Mercer cutting my throat didn't hurt at the time either._

'Whatever it is, it will lure Mercer to us, and in the Sepulcher we'll have enough of an advantage to capture him,' I say, recalling Karliah's words on the first night of our journey and the promises she had made. _This time, I'll paralyse him and I'll do everything I should've done in Snow Veil Sanctum,_ she had sworn, her hands grazing the pommel of her sword, and my mind had raced to recall the words she spoke to Mercer in that ruin. _One day, I will stand over your broken body and make you beg for death._ 'We kill him, retrieve the Key, and then this will all be over,' I say firmly, hoping and yet barely believing it will be as simple as that.

Sapphire seems to hear my doubts, and she makes a weary sigh. 'I suppose we'll find out, won't we?' she says before settling down on her bedroll. 'But you know that the longer we delay, the longer Astrid lives.' Sapphire pulls her furs over her body, and before she turns away from the fire to lie on her side, I catch sight of the impatience in her eyes. 'And the more chance someone gets there first and has the privilege of killing her before we do,' she adds bitterly. before she rolls over onto her side and says nothing more.

I stare at her for a moment, my heart fluttering with the realisation of how she has taken my revenge as her own, still struggling to believe that her loyalty stretches this far. _And she's right,_ I think, reaching for my own bedroll and laying it down beside the fire. _If someone kills Astrid before I do, I'll never forgive myself._

Cold fear passes through me at the thought of what lies ahead, and I quickly lie down as close to the fire as I can and curl up beneath the thin furs, feeling the soreness in my legs and my body's exhaustion of the past few days keenly, eager for a few hours of rest.

Before I close my eyes, Rune stands up. 'Here,' he says, gently laying a couple of his own furs on my body before he steps around the fire and gives the others to Sapphire, whose eyes flutter open with a look of confusion to match my own.

'Don't you want to sleep?' I say to Rune.

'I'll wait up,' he says, returning to his place beside the fire. 'Get some rest.'

Sapphire gathers the furs around her without argument and I don't contest Rune's words either, glad for any extra warmth and knowing well enough by now to make the most of every moment's rest I am given. _I've learnt that d_ _awn always comes too soon,_ I think, before I thank Rune and close my eyes, snuggling deeper beneath the furs and listening to the humming of the magical fire as I try to empty my mind – and yet I find my own thoughts unavoidably mirroring Sapphire's outwardly voiced concerns.

 _We're putting our faith in what may truly be a mere children's story,_ I think, remembering the rest of the Guild's scepticism and wondering truly how far I can believe it myself. _And_ _I'm wondering_ _why the hell I am purposefully trying to draw Mercer to me when I wanted never to see him again._

I quickly end the thought there, not wanting to pull at that tentative thread and find my mind unravelling with the familiar icy fear that leaves a bitter twinge in the scar at my throat. I close my eyes tighter and I focus on my aching body instead, the last few days blurring into a chilly exhausting haze of relentless riding and uneasy interrupted hours of sleep. _And Sapphire's right about_ _more than one thing_ _,_ I think, having long since decided like her that the hard cold ground under a few thin furs cannot be described as much of a bed.

Before I can stop myself, my mind wanders to the last bed I lay upon, imagining the soft mattress and warm sheets beneath my body, until with a fluttering in my lower stomach I start to think of who shared the bed with me. Instinctively, the action having formed into a habit in only a few days, my hand slips down beneath the furs to my pocket and I pull out the ruby Brynjolf gave me, my fingertip brushing over the flawed facet of the gem, feeling the jagged surface as I think of what happened between us the night before I left Riften. _I might never see him again,_ I think, wondering if I will ever return to Riften, much less return the gem to its owner. _But e_ _ven if my fears prove true and I die at Astrid's hands, at least I will have known the touch of someone other than Grelod's guests and Mercer Frey._

For a few hours, I sleep heavily but uneasily, my exhaustion trapping me in my troubled dreams; my legs useless and my body seemingly unable to turn back, I desperately try to outrun a shadowed creature that hunts me, my eyes blind to recognise the predator that follows me through the nightmare as relentlessly as the feeling of panic rises inside me, my heart pounding hard and fast in my paralysed body. When Karliah carefully shakes me awake a few hours before dawn, I'm more than willing to break camp and set out into the rainy darkness of the early morning, hoping that the fresh wet air will clear my head and banish the feeling inside me; my hopes are proven false, and by the time the unsettled sickening sensation in my stomach finally diminishes, a gloomy wet dawn has risen, and eventually the chill of the seemingly endless rain pushes both my dreams and the feeling of being hunted from my mind.

The scent of the pines carries strongly on the air and reaches us well before we catch sight of the first tall trees of Falkreath. We ride silently through the forest as the rain continues to fall, the road sloping over the uneven terrain as it winds its way between the wet ferns and greenery of the forest floor. Mists hang ghostly white between the wide trunks of the trees, the sheer height of the pines daunting me as I crane my neck upwards, watching the grey sky break through between the canopy. _Falkreath, just south of the city, below the road in the grey pine forest,_ I think repeatedly throughout the day, my heart beating as swiftly as the hooves of the horses while my gaze scours the passing trees for any grey pines, half-expecting to see Astrid in her dark scarlet armour step out from the mists. As the day wears on, the rain falls harder and heavier, blanketing the forest in a grey haze until I hear nothing but rushing water and see little beyond my cold wet hands clutching the horse's reins. _We could be passing the Sanctuary right now and I wouldn't know it. Astrid could be calling my name from ten feet away and I wouldn't even hear her voice._

My nerves are high and night has long fallen by the time the overgrown and winding path that Karliah leads us along finally opens into a small clearing in the shadow of steep rocky hill. As the Dunmer reins in her horse and I realise that we must be at our destination at last, I strain my eyes to make sense of my surroundings, but the shadows seem to close in around us and I can see little beyond a dark stone archway cut into the base of the hill and a few crumbling statues.

 _It's almost like the ruins at Snow Veil Sanctum,_ I think, but I have little time to register my growing unease as Karliah dismounts and ties her horse to a nearby tree, walking forward to the archway without a word. Before she can reach it, suddenly I hear the sound of fluttering wings high above, although when I look up to the trees, I do not see any birds taking flight through the shadows. When I look back down a moment later, Karliah has disappeared into the darkness of whatever lies beyond the archway.

I hear Sapphire sigh wearily. 'Let's get this over with, then,' she says, slipping her feet from the stirrups. 'I wonder if it'll be too much to hope that Nocturnal's temple has comfortable beds and magically refilling bottles of wine?'

Although her voice is not loud, her words seem to echo through the clearing, as if the shadows themselves are whispering her words back to us. Startled, I glance between Rune and Sapphire as they dismount, but neither seem to have heard anything and I realise that the sound is merely a trick of the rain or my own exhaustion. _I've had nowhere near enough sleep for days, I'm likely half-dreaming right now._

'There probably won't be beds and wine but at least it might be dry inside,' I reply lightly to Sapphire, relieved when I do not hear the strange whispering sound again and my words are answered only by the raven-haired thief's quiet sigh.

We leave our horses tied outside and follow in Karliah's footsteps, trepidation quickening my heartbeat as we walk beneath the archway and down a sloping path that soon opens up into a stone-walled and high-ceilinged cavern far larger than I expected from the outside. _And far emptier,_ _too._ With little to see but shadows and dust, the place is lit by violet-blue magelight emanating from several braziers, illuminating a dim path to the far end of the hall, where the light of the final brazier glows beneath another stone archway, leading to whatever lies beyond. _It's a temple to a god, surely it should have statues or offerings?_ I think as I push back my hood and look around, remembering my only other visit to a god's sacred place, when I sought out the apprentice Nelia at the Temple of Mara and came away not only with the knowledge of the woman I had to kill but with a few stolen trinkets too. _But I won't be stealing anything from this place,_ _and killing Mercer will be entirely different to killing the broken Imperial woman._

With the thought of Nelia and the night I took her life, I suddenly feel the shadows of the cavernous empty hall pressing in around me, crowding me, clouding my mind with the memories of the blood I have spilled, until all I can see is darkness and scarlet and death. _But I mustn't be afraid,_ a voice murmurs in my mind, and I hear the apprentice's words whispered in my ear as if I were back in the place where I cut her throat, in that skooma den, in that place of oblivion.

_Once you know the darkness, there is nothing else to fear, except the light._

'Wren.' Karliah's soft voice cuts through my memories, making me jump when I realise she is standing right in front of me. 'The Nightingale Song must be sung now. Come with me.'

'Song?' Sapphire repeats from my side before I can gather my senses, let alone manage to speak. 'What, we're going to sing Mercer to us?'

'It's just the name for the ritual,' Karliah says impatiently. 'The Song calls the other Nightingales to the Sepulcher, either to its defence when the temple is threatened or to welcome a new initiate. Whatever Mercer has done, he's still a Nightingale, and he'll be compelled to answer Nocturnal's call.' Her eyes flicker back to me. 'Let's go to the Inner Sanctum.'

'But-' I falter, caught off-guard, having almost expected Karliah to want at least a few moments of silence in the place that no doubt holds high significance to her - but as I meet her eyes and I recognise the familiar look of impatient determination burning like the magelight, I remember that the Dunmer has no desire for delay or contemplation. 'What do you mean?' I say nervously, some part of me already knowing exactly what she means. 'I have to pretend to attack the temple so Mercer will come here to defend it?'

'If we did that, I would be compelled to defend the Sepulcher too,' Karliah answers quietly. 'And I would kill you.'

I do not argue her statement, not doubting her ability to cut me down in a heartbeat and suddenly knowing I cannot pretend not to know what she means. 'So you want one of us to become a Nightingale,' I say, trying not to let my voice shake at the prospect. 'You want _me_ to become a Nightingale.'

The Dunmer holds my gaze unblinkingly, and it's then that I realise that the strange colour of Karliah's eyes matches the magelight glowing at the end of the hall. 'When we left Snow Veil Sanctum together, I knew I couldn't do this alone anymore,' she murmurs. 'All this time, I never once thought...' She tails off, and beneath the impatience in her eyes I see an unfamiliar flicker of hesitation. 'I never thought I would want another Nightingale at my side, not after Gallus died,' she says softly. 'After Mercer betrayed us, I knew I couldn't risk trusting anyone. But I... I trust in your desire to see Mercer dead and to rebuild what he has destroyed. I trust in your need for justice. I trust you, Wren.'

I stare at the Dunmer, hardly believing the sincerity of her words. 'You trust me?' I echo, not sure how to respond to her unexpected sentiment and finding my tone more sarcastic than I intend. 'It wasn't so long you had me in binds and threatened to kill me if it suited your purposes, you know.'

The hesitation in her eyes gives way to a fierce flash of regret, but only a moment passes before both emotions vanish and she stares at me only determinedly. 'We don't have time for me to apologise enough for the circumstances of how we met,' she says, her tone brisker. 'And I know I'll never be able to repay you for what you've already done for me with the Guild, for helping me to clear my name and for bringing me allies that I never thought I would have at my side.' Her gaze flickers between Sapphire and Rune as they stand either side of me, before the Dunmer's eyes meet mine again. 'I wouldn't ask this of you unless I thought it would help you too, Wren. Swear the oath to Nocturnal, and in return, she will grace you with the gifts of the Nightingales. Together, we will bring down Mercer, and then we will do the same to Astrid. She may be a skilled assassin, but Nocturnal is the Lady of shadows and deception. With her on your side, even Astrid will not see your blade until it is too late.'

I draw my arms across my body, feeling a shiver pass through me that I know has little to do with my chilly rain-soaked clothes. _Karliah has escaped Mercer twice, and she's evaded him and the rest of the Guild for years,_ I think, cautious to believe that Karliah's abilities are due to the gifts of daedric prince but knowing that I could nonetheless learn a great deal from her. _If Karliah can teach me even half of her skills, I wouldn't hesitate to accept her offer._

Rune seems to be thinking along the same lines. 'If some of those Nightingale gifts might help you with Astrid while also making us stronger against Mercer, it's worth considering,' he says into the silence, before his mouth turns into a small smile. 'It's like two birds with one stone, isn't it?'

 _Mercer said that once,_ I recall, my heart suddenly skittering with the memory. _Except Karliah and I were the birds, and he was the sharp-edged stone against my throat._

'And Wren only has to give her soul in exchange,' Sapphire says mockingly before I can answer. When I turn to look at her, the thief's hazel eyes are narrowed at Karliah. 'I'm guessing that's what Nocturnal expects in return for these gifts, right? Wren's soul and a lifetime of prayers and even more damn rituals?'

Karliah surprises me when she only smiles slightly at the raven-haired thief's words. 'All daedric princes enjoy mortal devotion,' she says. 'But Nocturnal has little desire for reverence. Her gratification comes from our fortune, our deceptions and our successes, and she would rather have us thieving than praying. We best serve her in the shadows, and in return, the shadows serve us. Our souls are not bound to Nocturnal or her whims, Wren. We are bound to the shadows, as are the souls of all true thieves - except for a Nightingale, that bond lingers in life and in death.'

 _In life and in death?_ I think, unable to answer aloud as an ominous knot forms in my stomach, still hardly believing what Karliah is saying and yet wondering just what afterlife will await me once I swear myself and my soul to Nocturnal and the shadows. _What if I don't even have a soul left to give?_ I think, suddenly realising that I may be destined for the void no matter whether or not I pledge myself to Nocturnal. _If I'm truly trusting in daedra and souls and everything else Karliah has told me, then my soul might have been sworn to Sithis the night Astrid took me to th_ _at remote_ _shack,_ I think, remembering the moment I accepted the Blade of Justice over the corpse of the woman I killed at Astrid's command. _Or maybe my soul has been lost to the Dread Lord ever since I took Grelod's life of my own volition._

Although I doubt whether Karliah's Nightingale abilities allow her to read my mind, she seems to understand my hesitation nonetheless, and her voice softens. 'Please trust me, as I trust you,' she murmurs. 'I am not leading you to further pain, not again, either in this life or in eternity. I told you we'd do this together, Wren, and I intend for us to finish it together.'Her violet eyes hold mine, the uncanny likeness of her irises to the Sepulcher's magelight making me wonder if she truly is blessed by Nocturnal. 'If you're with me now, I'm with you until the end.'

 _Whatever end._ Like before in the clearing, I hear a faint whispering in the back of my mind and the shadows seem to press in closer, urging me not only to answer but to trust Karliah entirely, with my life and with whatever else I have to offer. _Giving myself to the shadows has felt inevitable since I opened Grelod's throat,_ I realise, thinking of Astrid, thinking of Mercer, conscious that I always thought that the darkness would destroy me rather than protect me. _The shadows are dangerous, like Nelia said, but in this place, I don't feel afraid of them now._

'I'm with you,' I say to Karliah. _And I know that being lost in the obscurity of darkness is surely a kinder eternity than what I saw in the void after Mercer cut my throat._

If any doubt lingered in my heart from my decision, it vanishes as I watch a relieved genuine smile flash across the Dunmer's face - although I am hardly surprised when she wastes little more time in talking. 'Then let's go,' she says briskly, but before she turns away, she looks between Sapphire and Rune. 'Only agents of Nocturnal can be present for the Song,' she says, a genuine note of apology in her voice.

'We can make camp in here while you're gone,' Rune says, his words phrased almost as a question. _I suppose he doesn't want to risk accidentally desecrating the Sepulcher by laying down bedrolls._

Fortunately, Karliah nods her consent. 'This will not take long,' she says. 'Wren, let's go.'

Without another word, the violet-eyed thief turns away and walks down the hall towards the steps, but before I can follow, Sapphire takes my arm and turns me to face her.

'If you're promising your soul to any daedra, try to make it a good deal, all right?' she says, a sardonic edge in her voice. 'At least ask for those magically refilling bottles of wine.'

'I will,' I say with a smile, relieved that she is not trying to convince me to change my mind. 'And something to eat other than rabbit.'

Sapphire returns my smile briefly before she releases my arm. 'I'll see you in a bit, then.'

I nod and turn away, my legs slightly unsteady as I follow in Karliah's footsteps, barely believing in what I have agreed to do. _But if_ _daedric princes_ _are_ _truly_ _real,_ _they_ _surely_ _can't hurt as much as what I have already experienced_ _at the hands of humans_ _, and if this is what Karliah wants in exchange for her help, then I do_ _n't have a choice_ _._

I hurry to catch up with the Dunmer, her long quick strides taking her well ahead of me. At the end of the hall, she waits for me to reach her before leading the way beneath the archway and into another dark passageway, the ground sloping further downwards until the glow of the violet magelight fades behind us.

Despite the utter darkness, my eyesight does not seem impaired as I follow swiftly behind Karliah, my feet and legs steadier than they were before as we venture deeper into the Twilight Sepulcher. Soon the passageway opens out into another cavern, this one bathed in a pale violet light, although I see no braziers or sources of magelight anywhere. While the cavern is smaller and narrower than the first, the cave walls stretch up high and vast into the shadows, the ceiling somewhere beyond the reach of my sight. Ghostly grey and blue stalactites hang down through the murk and the walls are hewn with crevices and strange carvings that look almost like faces; their gazes look down onto the centre of the cavern, where a small ebony pedestal stands, covered in a thick coating of dust.

A number of closed doors lead off from the cavern, but Karliah does not take me to any of them; instead, she walks forward to the pedestal, her footsteps completely soundless. I stay near to the entrance to the cavern, hesitant to step further into the cavern until bidden, my nerves rising with every passing second until Karliah finally breaks the silence.

'Beyond here, the Sepulcher once provided a haven for Nightingales and thieves,' Karliah says eventually, her voice little more than a whisper. 'But this...' Her hand glides in the air over the pedestal. 'When Mercer took the Skeleton Key from its resting place here, the Twilight Sepulcher was sealed off to us, along with Nocturnal's favour itself. Without the Key, we cannot pass through these doors, and neither can-'

She stops abruptly, pain flashing in her violet eyes, and she looks away for a moment, her gaze on one of the closed doors.

'Neither can... what?' I ask quietly. _Or who?_ a voice whispers in my head.

Karliah turns back to me, her expression hardened. 'Only shadows,' she says, before she sharply brushes off the dust on the pedestal, revealing a small inlet in the stone surface. 'This is where the Key must be returned. Once that is done and the debt to Nocturnal is paid, then the Twilight Sepulcher will be restored, as will the Guild.' She moves a little to the side of the pedestal before she gestures me forward. 'Stand here.'

Obediently I step forward to the centre of the room, noticing then the silvery markings on the stone ground around the pedestal and quickly realising that they appear to be representations of the moon.

'There are three Nightingale agents, of stealth, subterfuge, and strife,' Karliah tells me, pointing to the crescent, half and full moons in turn. 'Although we share most of our abilities, Nocturnal graces each of her agents with a unique gift, so that together we can work seamlessly as one and with a skill beyond any other thief.' A bitter smile twists her mouth. 'Or so it was meant to be. Nightingales are not supposed to use their abilities against each other, but even before he took the Skeleton Key, Mercer always preferred to work alone to further his own gain.'

Her words send a shiver down my spine as I suddenly think about Mercer standing exactly where I am, in this silent strangely lit cavern, ready to bind himself to the shadows. _What agent was he?_ I wonder, not wanting to ask, almost not wanting to know, half-tempted to tell Karliah I have changed my mind and to leave the Twilight Sepulcher for good rather than allowing myself to be bound to this trinity. _With Mercer Frey as one third of it._

I force myself to swallow my fear and focus on the violet-eyed thief in front of me, noticing that she stands on the first symbol she indicated. 'You're the agent of stealth,' I say, to which Karliah nods. 'Then... can you turn invisible? Is that your gift?' _Fanciful as it is, that would explain how she has managed to evade Mercer all this time._

'Any thief can hide in the shadows and seem invisible to the untrained eye,' Karliah says. 'But a blade thrown into the shadows will still penetrate their heart, because the thief is flesh and blood and only concealed by darkness. They cannot bend the darkness to their will as Nightingales can.' Karliah's hand slips to the breast pocket of her Guild armour and she retrieves a small scrap of black, worn fabric. 'The agent of stealth wields the shadows as a shield, and when I wear Nocturnal's shadowcloak, that same blade thrown at my heart may never find its mark. The cloak allows the wearer to protect those beside them from the same fate too. It is supposed to help the Nightingales evade detection and harm as we carry out our endeavours.'

I look at the torn piece of fabric in confusion. 'And that is the shadowcloak?'

Karliah smiles slightly at my expression. 'Well, Nocturnal doesn't expect her agent to carry around a full length cloak all the time,' she says simply, tucking the scrap of material back into her pocket. 'She is the Lady of Mystery, but when it comes to the Nightingales, you'll find Nocturnal is more practical than enigmatic. She wants us to succeed at what we do, and our gifts only help, not hinder.' She hesitates. 'Although when we don't succeed, she makes her disappointment known.'

The silence seems heavier in response to her words, the emptiness of the Sepulcher pressing in around us, and suddenly I feel a strange longing to hear the whispering sound again, the fluttering of wings, some form of life, _anything_ other than the deathly cold silence.

'So what agent will I be?' I say finally.

'You will take Gallus' place, as the agent of strife,' Karliah tells me, pointing to the full moon painted onto the stone ground. 'The shadows are my shield but they will be your weapon... in time. The darkness will slow your enemies, impairing their skill and efficacy while your own increases in return. With enough practice, the shadows will bind your foes helpless before you, allowing you to flee or to strike.'

'That sounds useful,' I say, still hardly believing a word of what she is saying, although I cannot help realising that if all of this is indeed true, then Mercer is Nocturnal's agent of subterfuge. _And Karliah has_ _n't_ _said how he uses the shadows_ _to his advantage_ _,_ I think, wondering what Nightingale gift Mercer enjoys from the shadows, if they offer protection to Karliah and act as a weapon for the agent of strife. _A weapon for me,_ I correct myself, before the reality of the situation dawns on me then and suddenly I have to fight the urge to laugh at the absurdity of what I am going along with.

'Then stand on the glyph, and we will call upon Nocturnal and offer your allegiance to the Nightingales,' Karliah says, evidently unaware of my thoughts. She raises her hands above the pedestal and a violet flames leap from her hands, the magical fire hovering in the air just above the stone surface. 'And we will use the Song to draw Mercer to us.'

As I step hesitantly onto the full moon marking, Karliah reaches into one of her pockets and draws out a small cloth pouch, laying it on the pedestal before retrieving a tarnished circular amulet on a black chain from a different pocket and placing it also on the pedestal. The necklace's small rounded pendant is tarnished and scratched, the thin silver disc engraved with a worn black symbol that looks like a bird in flight, but I do not have time to study it further, as Karliah raises her hands to the flames and I realise she is about to call upon Nocturnal.

'Karliah, I don't know if I even believe any of this,' I say before she can speak, thinking it best to admit it to her now, fearing the Dunmer's disappointment when the ritual will fail. _Surely if Nocturnal is actually real, she'd want a Nightingale who has at least some faith in her._

A small smile graces Karliah's lips as she lowers her hands to rest on the pedestal. 'I never truly believed when Gallus initiated me,' she murmurs. 'He'd told me everything he knew about the Nightingales and I thought he was a fool for believing even one word of it. But I trusted him anyway. I knew he believed it, and that was enough for me to follow him here and make the oath. Even if it was all in his head, it meant something to him. It was important to him, _real_ to him. It was-'

Karliah stops abruptly and turns her gaze downward, and I realise that her fingers have landed upon the amulet on the pedestal in front of her, her fingertips tracing the emblem almost instinctively. _Like the way my fingers are drawn to the gem that Brynjolf gave me._

'We have to do this now,' Karliah says as she quickly takes her hands away. 'We've wasted enough time. When Nocturnal speaks to us, she will take your oath. You don't have to say anything,' Karliah tells me before I can ask what is expected of me. 'She will have already made up her mind about you long ago and nothing you could say now would change that. Just do what I tell you, and what she tells you.'

I nod wordlessly, knowing well enough that resistance is as futile with Karliah as it always was with Mercer. _Except I'm succumbing to the will of a daedra rather than the Guildmaster's desires,_ I think, although I fortunately have no further time to consider the comparable dangers of either prospect as Karliah raises her hands to the fire once more.

'Queen of murk, empress of shadow,' she says, her voice level and her eyes brighter than the flames. 'Bear witness to this soul who wishes to pledge herself to you. She would become your agent in the shadows, your blade in the twilight, your eyes in the darkness.'

Karliah pauses, as if waiting for an answer, but her words are met with a silence broken only by the faint hum of the magical fire between us.

'She swears herself to you and to your shadows,' Karliah continues. 'Her oath is the same that I made five years ago, which I swear anew now. She will not rest in life or in death until she has reclaimed what was stolen from you and avenged the betrayal of one of your agents.'

Karliah hesitates again, her brow furrowing as we listen to the silence for several seconds; I watch her expression nervously, her eyes glittering with a bitter frustration for only a brief moment until she lowers her hands from the fire and reaches for the amulet resting on the pedestal, the action purposeful this time.

'Put this on, Wren,' she says, holding out the necklace to me beneath the violet flames.

I take the amulet with shaking hands and slip it over my head obediently, the chain cool against my skin as I free my hair from beneath the necklace.

'We will see justice done, and the sanctity of the Nightingales restored,' Karliah says, raising her hands to the fire once more. 'This we swear, as your agents, to serve you loyally until you consider the debt repaid.' She pauses and listens to the silence once more, although I cannot decide whether it is frustration or determination that I see flashing in her eyes. 'Lady Nocturnal,' she calls a little louder, her voice echoing in the cavern as she closes her eyes tightly and speaks louder still. 'Hear us and accept our oath.'

At her words, a cloud of bats suddenly disperse from a hollow in the cavern wall high above my head, making me jump violently with the sound as I look up sharply to catch sight of the bats disappearing upwards into the shadows. Pain flashes through my neck with the suddenness of my movement, my heart beating fast with the fright and the scar at my throat burning more keenly that it has in days. My hands rise instinctively to my neck, but as my hands pass over the amulet laying against my chest, I feel a strange chill radiating from the necklace; when my fingertips brush hesitantly against the engraved pendant, I pull my hands back in surprise. _It's freezing cold._

Trying to steady my heart and ignore the pain in my throat, I look up at Karliah, finding the Dunmer still closed-eyed and not knowing whether she has received the answer she wanted. 'So am I a Nightingale?' I whisper eventually.

Karliah's eyes open, although I cannot read the expression on her face as she looks back at me through the flames. 'There is one way to find out,' she says softly.

She picks up small fabric pouch on the pedestal, loosening the ties to reveal the contents before she holds it out to me; when I lean closer and look inside, I realise it is filled with a heap of fine silver powder.

'Void salts blessed by Nocturnal,' the Dunmer explains before I can ask. 'They burn only for a newly fledged Nightingale. Drop a little into the flames. Mercer will hear the Song and he will have to answer it.'

'Have to answer it?' I repeat, doubtful that the void salts are anything more than common dust and painfully aware that Mercer Frey will never do something that he does not want to do himself.

 _Which means if he comes here, it'll be because he wants this to happen,_ I think with a knot of dread forming in my stomach, suddenly afraid as I remember what he said to me in his house in Windhelm. _You know, you little whores are more predicable than you think you are. You and Karliah might both realise that some day._

'Isn't this what Mercer would expect us to do?' I say, trying to keep the shrill tone from my voice, not lifting my hands to take the void salts from Karliah and instead wondering if I should rip the amulet from around my neck and pretend like none of this has happened. 'He knows we're working together, he'll surely expect you to make me a Nightingale and for us to do this ritual. You told me if he expects us to do something, we shouldn't do it.'

Karliah holds my gaze for a moment before she steps around the pedestal to stand closer to me and she lifts her hand to take mine, her other hand still holding the pouch of void salts. 'It doesn't matter what he expects, or what we should or shouldn't do,' she says, opening my palm gently, her skin soft and warm. 'This is Nocturnal's will.'

'But Mercer has betrayed the Nightingales and forsaken Nocturnal,' I say, curling my hand closed before she can tip the powder into my palm, suddenly feeling it imperative to highlight all the flaws in her plan and convince her against what she intends. 'Surely he won't be compelled to heed her call anyway.'

'He owes Nocturnal a debt, and until he pays it, part of his soul is bound to her,' Karliah says. 'Even Mercer cannot ignore that.' A brief cold smile curls at her mouth. 'Although I've often wondered if he even has a soul,' she mutters before her hand grips mine tighter. 'Trust me, Wren. You don't need to be afraid. This will not be like Snow Veil Sanctum. Please, trust me.'

Unable to bear the look in the Dunmer's eyes if I refuse and unable to admit to her how little I believe her words, I unfold my hand and let her tip a dusting of the silvery powder into my palm. _If I let myself feel afraid now, I will never be able to face what is coming._

I raise my hand above the flames and tip the dust into the fire quickly, the shimmering particles sliding smoothly from my palm and disappearing into the violet flames with a pitched whispering hiss. The hum of the fire seems to reverberate deeply in the back of my mind and distantly I hear a faint wailing sound, lingering in the air for only a moment before the silence suddenly falls dominating and absolute once more.

 _Not quite a song,_ I think as I lower my hand from the fire and draw my arms around my body, feeling a chill cut through the air and a tingling sensation in the scar at my throat. When I look at Karliah, I find her closed-eyed again and completely still, her determined frown lessened now and an expression of something almost resembling peace upon her face. Her slender shoulders rise and fall deeply a second later and she exhales a slow, steady breath.

'Walk with shadows, Nightingale,' she whispers as she opens her eyes, and although her plum lips do not turn into a smile, a fierce warmth burns in her violet eyes as she looks at me through the flames.

Something flutters fast in my chest with her words, a strange flurry of relief and uncertainty overtaking me when I realise she truly believes that the ritual has succeeded and that I am now bound to Nocturnal, although I register clearly enough that the feeling inside me is tinged with a bitter sadness. _Wren, Nightingale, little bird,_ I think, wondering how many wings I must grow before this is over. _Before I finally feel free._

'Now what?' I whisper.

'Now we wait for Mercer,' Karliah says, slipping the void salts back into her pocket. 'And I suppose we find out whether or not he has a soul.'

Karliah is about to turn away and lead the way back to the first hall of the Sepulcher when she pauses and turns back to the pedestal, her gaze flickering over me briefly before she looks at the fire.

'And even if he is as soulless as I suspect, Nocturnal isn't the only thing drawing him here,' she murmurs, before she raises her hands and the fire extinguishes abruptly, and by the time my eyes adjust or I can let myself understand what she means, Karliah has already turned away and disappeared into the shadows.

 

*

 

While the Twilight Sepulcher is at least drier and warmer than camping beneath the stars, I quickly decide I would prefer to out in the wet and cold forest rather than waiting helplessly for Mercer to answer Nocturnal's call. As the days crawl by into a week, the edges of Karliah's impatience sharpen with every passing hour until even Rune starts to keep a careful distance from the Dunmer for fear of sparking her irritation. On the second day, the dark blond thief ventures out to Falkreath city to speak to the Guild contact and Sapphire goes with him, her own patience already worn thinner than Karliah's and declaring that she intends to steal something more edible than charred meat and rainwater.

At the Dunmer's request, I stay at the temple and do not venture much beyond the clearing, although with every passing day, my own impatience grows in line with Sapphire and Karliah's, my desire to find Astrid fighting with my need to simply be as far away as possible from the place where we intend to trap Mercer. _But as much as I'd like to leave, Karliah's right in suggesting I stay here,_ I think, knowing that I would rather watch with open eyes as Mercer steps into the Sepulcher instead of suddenly feeling a dagger press against my back somewhere in the forest or city.

 _And for being a Nightingale, I actually feel weaker and more vulnerable than before,_ I think, the knot of nerves turning my stomach more sickeningly with each passing day and the scar at my neck continuing to throb dully ever since I burnt the void salts and performed the Song. _And since then, I keep thinking of Mercer, and how he may be coming here, and what will happen when he arrives._ Nauseous with the thoughts in my mind and suspecting that if I stepped foot outside the Sepulcher, neither Karliah nor Nocturnal would be able to compel me to return, I pass the days and nights sleeping as much as I can, glad to distract my mind from the world beyond the shadowy hall and equally as glad to catch up on my sleep, particularly after Rune and Sapphire supplement the ragged bedrolls with a few extra furs after a second trip to the city and our small camp just inside the first hall of the Sepulcher becomes a little more comfortable. My waking time I pass by putting my hands to use and practising with my daggers, or by casting the one spell I know, realising how urgently I may need the skill in the future and finding that the lingering pain in my throat provides a genuine enough excuse to practice. While the healing magic seems unable to further mend the wound physically, the spell takes away much of the pain, although the blissful numb warmth never lasts for long; the needling sensation returns within hours, often coupled with a cold shiver of goosebumps that seem to radiate from the Nightingale amulet around my neck, the pendant feeling like ice as it lays against my skin. When I realise that the amulet always feels strangely cold to the touch, I start to wear it between my jacket and shirt, although the chill seems to penetrate even through my clothing.

 _If being a Nightingale means feeling like this, I wish I had never put on this damn amulet,_ I think as I sharpen my silver dagger by the fire, my impatience rising with every purposed movement of my hands. _I should've gone straight to Astrid. I could be wiping her blood from my blade right now instead of sharpening it in preparation to defend myself from Mercer Frey._

'I'm sorry for what I said when we first met,' Karliah says suddenly, her voice cutting into my thoughts and making me jump.

I look up at her, my hands stilling their task. Karliah sits cross-legged on the other side of the fire with an array of vials and herbs in front of her; the incessant sound of the pestle and mortar becoming frustratingly familiar over the past few days, the Dunmer spends much of her time concocting enough potions to start her own apothecary. _Except they aren't for healing, they're to paralyse and poison and cause as much pain to Mercer as possible._

'When you first ambushed me and threatened to kill me, you mean?' I reply, half sarcastically and half lightly, trying to keep the edge of my voice but realising that I have as little patience as the violet-eyed thief herself.

Unexpectedly, a small smile plays across her lips. 'And you wouldn't have done the same to me if you'd had the opportunity first?' she says.

Despite everything, I can't help but smile too. 'I suppose we're even then,' I say.

'Not really,' Karliah says, the smile disappearing as quickly as it came. 'I should have apologised properly. I'm _trying_ to apologise, Wren. I'm sorry for what I called you.'

I frown, not remembering and not particularly wanting to recall any part of what transpired in Windhelm or Snow Veil Sanctum. 'What did you call me?'

'I thought you were Mercer's whore.' Karliah's eyes are dark with regret. 'No, I thought it was more than that. I thought you... cared for him.'

'Cared for him?' I repeat, the words almost making me laugh. 'You thought I _cared for_ Mercer Frey? Are you actually crazy?'

'I saw you together,' Karliah says, her tone undercut with disgust, although I can tell she is trying her best to hide it.

'You never saw everything,' I say bluntly, suddenly no longer wanting to try to keep the edge out of my voice or even to continue the conversation further. 'I wasn't his whore, and I never cared for-'

I swear under my breath as pain flashes suddenly in my neck, as if the mere thought of Mercer is enough to trigger my body's previous pain at his hands; I throw aside the dagger and the sharpening stone and instead raise my hands to my throat, the healing spell flowing swiftly and easily from my palms, the effort minimal compared to what it once cost me. I close my eyes as I feel its glow penetrate the scarred skin, soothing the discomfort in seconds. _But I'm still not good enough to protect myself from pain in the first place._

'You're good at that,' I hear Karliah say softly.

I open my eyes in surprise, the magic vanishing immediately from my hands. 'Good at what?' I ask, confused and disoriented by my pain, but when her gaze flickers down to my neck, I realise what she means. 'Hardly,' I say. 'I only know this one spell. You're far better with magic than I am.'

'Not the healing kind,' she says.

'You healed me in Snow Veil Sanctum,' I point out, knowing I wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for her.

'That was different, you were paralysed, unconscious... it made it easier.' Her mouth turns to a hard line. 'If I was actually any good at it, maybe-' She stops herself abruptly and turns her gaze downward to her alchemy ingredients, and she doesn't need to say anything for me to know what is on her mind, my brief time in the Dunmer's company having taught me well enough by now exactly what memories she is stifling when she stops speaking so suddenly. _She stared at Gallus' blood in Snow Veil Sanctum for a long time. She must have replayed the moments that the blood was spilled for five years in her head._

I realise how desperately I want to fill the silence but not knowing how to comfort her adequately. 'You shouldn't blame yourself,' I say quickly. 'I know it's not easy to cast a healing spell at the best of times, let alone when you're in actual pain. When I tried to heal myself after Mercer-'

I find it's my turn to stop suddenly when I realise what I am saying and what memory I am about to share with her. _Imagine Karliah's face if I told her about being stripped and chained and whipped by Mercer Frey,_ I think, before I blush at the thought of Karliah learning that some part of me found pleasure in what he did.

'I just know it's hard to heal yourself, let alone anyone else, when you're hurt or afraid,' I finish lamely, wishing I could stop her pain as much as I wish I could stop my own.

Fortunately, Karliah does not look up to see my awkward flushed cheeks, nor does she seem to want my consolation. 'And yet that's when you need it most,' she mutters, and resumes her work in silence, a few strands of her hair falling forward to cover her face as she turns her gaze down.

We sit without speaking for a few minutes. I contemplate resuming my own work and continuing to sharpen my dagger, but the sight of the blade is now more unsettling than comforting, and I quickly sheathe the weapon and instead draw the furs over my legs, staring into the fire. _Sapphire and Rune will be back from their last excursion to the city soon,_ I think, desperate not to let my thoughts wander to anything else. _And hopefully they will have stolen some more wine._

As if the thieves are somehow attuned to my thoughts, I hear light footsteps in the sloping passageway leading out to the clearing, the sound almost echoing in the empty deep shadows of the Sepulcher. _Either Sapphire is walking more loudly, or my hearing has improved,_ I think, although I reach for my dagger nonetheless, not trusting myself to not be fooled by Mercer. _But I know when he arrives, I won't hear a sound until it's too late._

Karliah has already seized her bow and one of her arrows from her quiver before I have even turned my head to look at the temple entrance, but I hear her lower her weapon as my heart flutters in relief when Sapphire steps out of the shadows and approaches the fire swiftly, pushing back her damp hood and shaking her dark hair free, her clothes glittering with the remnants of a light rain.

'Where's Rune?' I ask as she reaches the fire, easing the satchel from her shoulder.

'Seeing to the horses,' Sapphire replies, placing the leather bag on the ground beside me with an unmistakable faint clinking sound. 'Help yourself.'

As I reach out eagerly for the satchel, Karliah stands up, her bow still in her hands. 'I'll catch us something to eat,' she says.

'I've brought-' Sapphire starts, but Karliah has already left the fireside and vanished into the shadows before the words are out of her mouth.

I pull out one of the bottles of wine from the satchel. 'I don't know what I'd do without you,' I say lightly to Sapphire as she settles beside me and kicks off her boots before she draws the furs over her lap.

'Probably be sober,' she answers, pulling another bottle and a loaf of bread from the satchel.

For a few minutes, we drink and eat in companionable silence, the wine soon doing its job as I start to feel a pleasant warmth rise in my stomach, pushing away the nerves and the chill inside me. _I'll go with Sapphire next day she ventures to the city, regardless of what Karliah thinks,_ I decide, imagining the heat of a tavern and the pleasure of lying in a proper bed, even for just a few hours. _I_ _don't care if Mercer catches me off-guard out in the open, as long as he does it after I've slept soundly and warm, just one last time._

'It's been a week, you know,' Sapphire says suddenly, her thoughts clearly following the same paths as mine. 'Don't you think we've waited here long enough?' She pauses to take a swig of wine. 'We should go to the Sanctuary now instead of wasting any more time.'

I look sideways at her, but the thief's gaze is directed away from me and towards the fire. _Although I don't need to see her expression to know how impatient she is to leave the Sepulcher,_ I think, having seen her reluctance to be here growing with every passing day. 'You're still that keen for us to confront an assassin and probably get ourselves killed in the process?' I say teasingly.

'I'm not saying I'm keen to confront Astrid,' Sapphire replies, her voice short. 'It's more that I'm keen for us not to be _here,_ Wren.'

'You still don't trust Karliah,' I say, well aware of Sapphire's inherent suspicion and knowing just as well that it will take more than two weeks for her to trust the Dunmer, let alone Nocturnal. 'Look, I'm not entirely sure I believe any of this Nightingale stuff either, but-'

'I'm not talking about Karliah, or the bloody Nightingales.' She turns to look at me properly, her eyes flashing fiercely in the firelight. 'We're waiting here for Mercer, aren't we? _He's_ the one I don't trust, Wren, and we'd be better off leaving before he gets here.'

'I thought you wanted to find him and make him pay,' I remind her, not wanting to admit how far I agree with her and how badly I want to be well away from Mercer rather than waiting here for him. _E_ _ven if it the alternative is infiltrating the Brotherhoo_ _d and probably walking to my death._

'I do,' Sapphire says. 'I want him dead as much as you and Karliah, and I'll do anything to make him pay for what he's done, but I'm not doing it at your expense. _This_ could be at your expense, Wren, and you know that. Don't argue,' she says as I open my mouth to deny it. 'We already know what he's capable of doing, and who's to say we're not playing into his hands right now by staying in the Sepulcher? We should go to the Dark Brotherhood while we still can. Waiting here for Mercer like this, it's a bad idea, for all of us, and I just... I know I can't protect you from him,' she finishes in a rush, her lips pursed tight the second the words are out of her mouth.

I stare at her, my heart warming with the realisation that she wants to protect me in the first place, and as usual finding myself unable to respond adequately. 'But you can protect me from a guild of assassins?' I say lightly.

'Somehow I think I've got more of a chance,' Sapphire mutters, before the look in her eyes hardens. 'Look, Wren, you don't want to be here either. You told me at the Guild after he held us in his cellar, you said you'd rather never see him again. Don't you remember what he did? What he made you do?'

I do not answer, not wanting to remember what happened in Mercer's cellar, not wanting to recall Sapphire's protests and my shame as I knelt before Mercer. _But she didn't see it all,_ I think, glad that Sapphire never saw the way the tears fell pathetically from my eyes when I woke up chained and naked and hopelessly afraid. _She didn't witness how weak I am compared to her._ Sudden pain flashes in my neck with my memories, the feeling twice as sharp as before, my throat searing hot as if Mercer is both forcing himself down it and cutting it open at once, claiming it for his own again, undeniably and irreversibly.

Determined not to show my weakness this time, I grip the wine bottle tightly and grit my teeth, forcing myself to resist the desperate need to raise my hands and try to heal the pain.

Sapphire seems to notice, and her expression softens a little before she puts aside her drink and reaches out to touch my hand. 'Let's go,' she says quietly. 'If Karliah is right and the Nightingale Song has called him here, then you've done your part. Let Karliah handle it now. You know she's more than capable of doing it by herself. When Mercer turns up, she can shoot her poisoned arrows at him and retrieve the Skeleton Key before making him suffer in whatever painful ways she likes.' Her lips curve into a brief smile. 'Then we'll come back and finish what's left of him.'

I hold her gaze, wanting to agree, wanting to finally bring Astrid to justice far more than I want to ever cross paths with Mercer again, unless he is already beaten and no longer a threat to me. _Although I'd like to be the one to give him what he deserves,_ I think, trying to imagine standing over his broken body and hearing him beg for me, watching him plead for his life as desperately as I once pleaded for his touch. _Yet I know that's just_ _as_ _delu_ _ded as thinking he'll never be a threat to me_ _,_ I remind myself, well aware I will never hear Mercer beg for me and equally aware that if I stay here waiting for him, it's more likely that I'll end up begging for my own life.

 _But no matter how I feel, I can't abandon Karliah to face Mercer alone,_ I think, knowing that she shares my pain and that she has been hurt by him just as much as I have. _When he murdered Gallus, when he pinned the crime on her, he might as well have cut out her heart as surely as he cut my throat._

'I can't leave Karliah to face him by herself,' I tell Sapphire grimly, resignedly, knowing that regardless of whether my soul is bound to the Dunmer's by Nocturnal's will, I cannot abandon her to deal with Mercer Frey alone.

It is not the answer Sapphire seems to want to hear. 'Wren, she doesn't need your help anymore,' she says with a sigh, exasperation flashing in her eyes. 'Gods know you can't shoot a bow to save your life, so I have no idea what help you think you're going to be when Mercer walks in here and you need to incapacitate him.'

'I can fight,' I say indignantly, my irritation sparked all too quickly with my nerves already on edge.

'With daggers, which requires getting close enough to use them,' Sapphire snaps, her own anger matching mine. 'Don't you remember the last time you were that close to him? Gods, Wren, don't be a fucking idiot again, all right?'

'I'm not, I'm just trying to help,' I retort, fury lacing my words as I try not to think about the truth in hers. 'You didn't have to come with me, you know. If you don't agree with what I'm doing, go back to the Guild.'

'And leave you to get yourself killed?' she says, sarcasm coating her voice. 'What a great idea. But you're always full of great ideas, aren't you? Involve yourself with Mercer, then ally yourself with a woman who believes a daedric prince will miraculously save everything wrong in the world... and you wonder why you keep getting hurt.'

I glare at her, my cheeks flushing with anger, but before I can think of a suitable response and the appropriate curse words to accompany it, I hear footsteps in the passageway entrance and I turn my head to see Rune and Karliah step into the temple.

 _And they don't need Nightingale abilities to have overheard our argument,_ I think, noticing Rune's hesitant expression and Karliah's narrowed eyes as the two thieves approach us and come to stand beside the fire. As they push back their hoods, Sapphire mutters something inaudible under her breath before she brings the wine bottle to her lips again.

'Nocturnal isn't going to save everything wrong in the world,' Karliah says to her quietly. 'But she's the only one who can help us to rebuild the Guild after what Mercer has done. His oath to the Nightingales will bring him here, and then-'

'Keep telling yourself that,' Sapphire says shortly. 'We've been waiting in this damn temple for a week. If he was following us from Riften, he'd be here by now.'

'Sapphire, give this a chance,' Rune says before Karliah can reply. 'This might be the only way to get Mercer to-'

'I've given it a chance,' the raven-haired thief interrupts as she puts aside her bottle and grabs her boots before wrenching them onto her feet. 'And I'm sick of this place. I'm sick of Nocturnal, and I'm sick of talking about Mercer fucking Frey.' She stands up abruptly and turns to look down at me. 'And I know you're sick of it, too. Think about yourself for once, and what _you_ want, Wren. Forget Mercer, Nocturnal, all of us, everything. What do you _want?'_

'Sapphire,' I start, not knowing how to answer, my anger suddenly overcome by a strange pang of regret for biting back at her like I did, but she ignores me and turns away, and before I can find the words to call her back, she strides towards the temple entrance, the depths of the shadows quickly consuming all sight of her and leaving only silence in her wake.

I turn my gaze back to the fire quickly, not wanting to look at Rune or Karliah, suddenly feeling tears of frustration prick at my eyes. As the two thieves settle beside the fire without speaking, I stare into the flames, my shoulders rising and falling as I try to steady my breathing and fight back hot bitter tears. _She makes it sound so easy, but what I want has never mattered before,_ I think, feeling as though every step I have taken has only ever been on a path already laid out before me, taking me to Honorhall, to the Guild, to the shack with Astrid, to Mercer's bed, to the Twilight Sepulcher. _I even found myself in Brynjolf's bed without asking to be there,_ I realise, knowing that although I wanted it, wanted _him,_ I cannot claim those precious few hours I spent there as truly my own. _I knew it was nothing more than just one night,_ _because_ _as much as I wanted him to convince me to stay_ _in_ _the pleasurable oblivion of being held in his arms, we both knew there was something I wanted more._

I hear Rune say something quietly to Karliah, but I do not catch the words, my thoughts racing too fast and too loud in my mind, every past desire tangling both hot and cold inside me as I think of my parents, of Mercer and Brynjolf, of losing myself in someone else and in my own bitter memories, until suddenly I hear a woman's voice in my head, songlike and seductive, whispering words to me as I stood before the kneeling woman she ordered me to kill.

 _The pain is easily forgotten, after enough time, but how could you forget how it felt to be so helpless, so powerless?_ Astrid murmurs in my ear, reminding me of Grelod's guests, my weakness, my pain, the assassin urging me on to submit to her demand as I stood in the shack beside her with my hands clenched feebly around the Blade of Justice. _How can you forget what it is like to be at another's mercy?_

'I need to leave,' I say aloud suddenly, not sure how much time I have passed in thought but knowing my answer to Sapphire's question at last. I tear my gaze from the fire and look between Rune and Karliah, realising that as much as I want to help the violet-eyed thief seek her own justice for what was taken from her, I cannot put aside my own any longer. 'I'm going to the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary now. I'm going to find Astrid now.'

Karliah does not seem surprised by my words, although I cannot tell whether the darkening of her eyes is due to regret or frustration at my words. 'Wren, I told you I would help you deal with her,' she says softly.

'I know,' I say, not doubting the Dunmer's promise. 'But you need to deal with Mercer first, and as much as I want to make him pay for what he's done, I need to make Astrid pay too, for my parents, and for myself.' I grab my satchel from beside my bedroll and rise to my feet, my legs unexpectedly steady despite the sudden and terrifying decision that has settled in my mind. 'And I've waited long enough.'

'But you shouldn't go there alone,' Karliah says, standing up too as I sling my satchel over my shoulder before I reach down to pick up my silver dagger from the ground. 'You don't know what to expect, you'll be walking in blind and outnumbered.'

'Then that's on my head,' I say. _I'm bound to no one's mercy now, whether they mean well by it or not._ 'If I'm going to die, I'd rather quickly die at Astrid's hands than let Mercer play his games with me ever again.'

As I strap the silver dagger to my thigh, Karliah turns her head to the side. 'Rune-' she starts sharply, as if to ask him to convince me to change my mind, but the dark blond thief only shakes his head at her as he rises to his feet without a word and meets my gaze silently for a few moments.

'Is this what you really want?' he says quietly, the look of resignation in his deep blue eyes halting my answer, my heart already knowing that he will let me go without argument.

'Yes,' I whisper.

Rune nods once, his expression unchanging. 'Then will you at least let me come with you?' he says.

My answer comes quicker and firmer than the last. 'No,' I say, not wanting to risk his life for my revenge. 'I'd rather you stay here. Please, Rune. It's safer that I do this by myself, but Karliah shouldn't have to do the same and face Mercer alone.'

'Wren, I thought you trusted me,' the Dunmer says before Rune can answer, her tone hard and her gaze the same. 'I told you, I'm not going to let Mercer hurt you or play any games with you if you stay. Why don't you believe me when I say that? Why do you still not trust me?'

'I do trust you,' I tell her truthfully. 'But you have to trust me too, and you have to believe me when I say I can't wait here for him like this, Karliah. I don't _want_ to wait here for him at his mercy. I need to find Astrid while I still can.' I force my mouth into a small smile and try to make my voice bright. 'And Sapphire's right, anyway, you don't need my help to capture him, unless you can somehow teach me your skill with a bow before he gets here.'

Karliah does not respond to my lightly spoken words, nor does she reply at all, and in her momentary silence, I take the opportunity to reach down and pick up my other dagger with the intent of fastening it to my thigh - but as my fingers linger over the smooth handle of the glass blade, I recall how Karliah gave it to me after we left Windhelm, and with a strange pang of finality in my stomach, I realise that the time has come to return the dagger to its owner.

When I hold the blade out to her, Karliah does not take it. 'I gave it to you, Wren,' she says stiffly, her lips pursed tightly.

'And I'm giving it back,' I say. 'I want you to have all the weapons and means of killing Mercer that you can get.'

Karliah hesitates for a second before she lifts her hand to the dagger, but instead of taking the blade, she covers my hand with hers. 'I'm not going to kill him when he comes here,' she says quietly, surprising me for a moment until she continues, the corners of her mouth briefly turning up. 'I'll take the Key from him and I may break a few of his bones but I'll keep him alive until you return. Your Nightingale debt to Nocturnal aside, you deserve to have the pleasure of making him pay for what he has done.'

Relief floods my body when I realise she is going to let me go, but the feeling quickly twists into sharp nerves as my mind processes what I have decided and what is going to happen. _I'm really going_ _to Astrid_ _, and I'm going alone, and when I come back, Mercer might be here in chains waiting for me._ 'Then send me a letter to the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary when you've got him,' I say jokingly.

Karliah takes her dagger from my hand. 'You'll know without reading it in a letter,' she murmurs. 'Nocturnal will make it clear to you when he is here.' Before I can say anything in reply, Karliah turns away and walks over to her bedroll, dropping down onto her knees to place her glass dagger on her furs before reaching over to the satchel and drawing out an object wrapped in black cloth. 'Your Nightingale abilities will come to you in time, once we restore Nocturnal's favour,' she says as she rises to her feet and returns to stand before me. 'Until then, this will have to suffice as your protection.'

Karliah unwraps the dark material to reveal a long slender dagger, sheathed in black leather and the handle bearing faded illegible runes.

'I should've given it to you the moment you became a Nightingale,' she says. 'But I... I couldn't...' She tails off for a moment and her gaze flutters down to the dagger in her hands, her fingers tracing over the worn handle, until she shakes her head and looks back up at me. 'This is Nightclaw, an ebonwraith blade blessed by Nocturnal. It belonged to Gallus and now it's yours.'

Before I can speak, Karliah draws the dagger from its sheathe and a strange whispering sound fills the air, silencing whatever I might have said. Crafted from a black metal like the Blade of Justice but darker, marginally longer and weightier than my own weapon, the dagger's blade has been forged to resemble the shape of a feather, slightly curved and tapering to a sharp point at the tip, the surface inlaid with ridges that fan out from the centre. While the dagger appears assuredly solid in Karliah's hands, the metal almost seems to ripple with darkness, as if the blade is crafted from shadow itself.

 _It looks like her bow,_ I realise, and I look back up at Karliah, my heart racing with uncertainty and a sudden chill emanating through me from where I feel my Nightingale amulet against my chest. 'I can't take this,' I say firmly, preferring to have the nameless glass dagger back again if this is her alternative, not knowing the properties of an ebonwraith blade but knowing that I am not worthy of the dagger she is offering. 'You should keep it. It belonged to Gallus.'

'It did, now it belongs to you,' Karliah says, sheathing the dagger carefully, the blade seeming to whisper once more as it sinks safely into the worn leather. 'Nightclaw is one of the gifts given by Nocturnal to her agent of strife. It serves to defend us all against the enemies of the Nightingales and the Guild. It belongs to you now, Wren.' She holds out the dagger to me, the firelight dancing in her eyes, illuminating a bright look of bitter sadness and fierce determination so genuine that it steals my breath away for a moment. 'Take it, and keep it,' she whispers. 'And when you return to the Sepulcher, use it when we end Mercer's life and finish this at last.'

I swallow, forcing my heart to steady itself as the chill of the amulet seems to peak more sharply with her words. _This was Gallus' blade, and Karliah is trusting me with it,_ I think, and for the first time, I realise truly the extent of her faith in me, as her fellow Nightingale, as her ally. _As her friend._ 'I will,' I promise, lifting my hands to touch Nightclaw, knowing that I must try to believe that I am worthy of her trust. 'I swear it.'

Karliah nods, her jaw set, and a second later she relinquishes her hold on the dagger. Despite being a little larger than the Blade of Justice, the ebonwraith dagger is far lighter than I expected, seeming to weigh little more than the supple leather in which the blade is sheathed. Suddenly afraid that my hands will fumble and I will drop the blade to the ground in front of Karliah, I tuck the weapon safely inside my satchel before I look back up and glance between Rune and Karliah.

'Please be careful,' I say to them, wondering if I am doing the right thing in leaving them here to face Mercer alone. _All I can hope is that Sapphire will leave the Sepulcher once I've gone and won't have to face him too._

Rune grins easily. 'Says you,' he replies, before he reaches out for me and I wrap my arms around him in a quick, fierce hug, remembering how it felt to be held by him after Karliah and I first returned to the Rift, when he so easily could have mistrusted me. _At least I've done one good thing,_ I think, relieved that Rune will have Karliah watching his back, and she will have him watching hers. 'You know, I'm starting to think I should've named the dagger I stole for you,' Rune says lightly as we break apart a second later. 'It seems a bit worthless in comparison, doesn't it?'

'It doesn't need a name for it to be worth something to me,' I say, returning his smile. 'And it being unnamed makes it all the more mysterious, don't you think?'

'I suppose that's true,' Rune says, before his grin fractures a little. 'You should go find Sapphire before you leave. She'll want to go with you.'

I shake my head, well aware that he is right and yet knowing I cannot ask it of Sapphire to come with me, even though she has made it clear that is her intention. 'When she comes back, tell her to get a carriage to Riften,' I say. _Now the time is here, I can't expect her to risk her life for me, just as I can't ask it of Rune._ 'She'll be safe with the rest of the Guild. Tell her to return to Riften, and tell her I'm sorry.'

'We will,' Rune promises. 'Don't worry about her, or us.'

 _Worry about yourself,_ I hear the unspoken words, and for a few seconds we stand in silence, until it hits me that I have to be the one to walk away.

'Be careful,' I say again, to which Rune only nods.

'After you leave the clearing, take the road to the right,' Karliah tells me, her voice brisk and her expression vaguely impatient again, as if we have already made our goodbyes and that there is no more left to say. 'It will lead you north towards the city.'

'Thank you,' I say, realising that I have to find my way to the Sanctuary by myself and suddenly feeling a flicker of panic in my stomach with the thought. _And I don't even know what time of day it is._ 'I'll see you soon,' I add, hoping that it is the truth.

I turn away from the two thieves quickly, but before I can take a step towards the way out of the temple, Karliah's hand closes around my arm and she turns me back to her.

'If you need me, Wren, I'll come to you,' she says softly. 'Call upon Nocturnal. She will hear you. And I will answer.' She releases me as swiftly as she held me, and her expression softens as her violet eyes flicker over my face. 'Walk with the shadows.'

'Walk with the shadows,' I say, the quietly spoken words seeming to echo within the Twilight Sepulcher, the darkness whispering the words back to us before I turn away again, and this time, neither Rune nor Karliah stop me from leaving.

My footsteps are silent as I walk through the temple, hearing only the fast thudding of my heart, the sound almost like furiously beating wings that follow me as I soon walk along the sloping passageway towards the dim light of the outside world. When I step out into the clearing, my eyes narrow against the light, my sight seeming to have already become accustomed to the shadows. A drizzling rain is falling, filling the damp misty air with a faint rushing sound, and I look up, trying to discern the time of day, but the dense greenery high above conceals most of the grey sky, and I realise it could be morning or afternoon for all I know. _Then I just have to move as quickly as I can, so that whether night falls sooner or later, I'm not wandering the forest in the dark._

Despite my intention, my feet do not seem to obey my commands, and for a minute I stand very still in the damp earth, listening to the rain, wondering if I should return to the Sepulcher and wait for Karliah to help me, wait for Mercer to come to us, wait for someone else to make the decision for me. _I'm no longer under anyone's mercy, but I know why I have stayed that way until now,_ I think, gathering my hair in my hands and tucking it back before pulling my hood over my head. _Being powerless was familiar, easier. It was almost safer, not having a choice and letting someone else decide whether I would fail or succeed, whether I would feel pain or pleasure,_ _whether I would live or die._

I harden my heart and force my feet to move, knowing I have to try to determine my own fate now. _I have to hold the blade, and I have to be strong enough to take the life owed to me,_ _no matter what_ _._

I walk towards the edge of the clearing where the horses are tied beneath the shelter of the trees, finding that Sapphire's mount is still there. _She can't have gone far, but I can't try to find her,_ I remind myself as I saddle my horse and try to ignore the nerves jumping between my heart and my stomach. _Because if I do, she'll come with me, and the only person I am going to sacrifice for my revenge is myself._

 

*

 

By the time I have left the clearing and taken the road north, the frightened beating of my heart has settled, although the chill of the Nightingale amulet against my chest seems to grow with every passing minute, as does the dull ache in the scar at my throat the further I get from the Twilight Sepulcher.

I ignore both pains and ride on, keeping my pace slow as my gaze scours the forest around me. The rain eases and the mists soon clear away, and yet despite the improved visibility compared to when Karliah led me to the Sepulcher, I do not catch sight of grey pines or any sign of a path leading off from the road. _Am I really surprised that a hidden Sanctuary isn't going to be obvious to find?_ I scold myself, pushing back my hood to see better as I continue along the road, determined to not let my doubts take over my thoughts. _If I don't find it, then I'll follow the road to the city and spend the night there, before returning to the forest in the morning and resuming my search._

As I make my slow journey, I pass a few farmers and other travellers on the road, my heart skittering every time I draw close to someone, part of me half-expecting to stumble across the one person I would rather never see again. _If Mercer was here, would he be walking along the road with a cart of damn vegetables?_ I think flippantly, although my attempt at lightening my mood seems to fail and the thought of Mercer only brings my nerves back to the fore. At some point, my hand dips into my pocket and I let my fingers brush over the gem tucked safely there. _He said he'd never been caught while carrying it,_ I think, trying to draw some measure of reassurance from the small flawed gem in my hand, forcing myself to believe that it is as lucky as Brynjolf said. _If only I had him here now to fool me into feeling safe._

The rain is just starting to fall again and at least an hour must have passed when I hear the distant sound of hooves thundering along the road behind me. When I turn my head to look around, I see a horse and rider approaching between the trees, moving fast along the worn road in my direction, and with a sharp jolt in my stomach, I suddenly recognise the woman on the horse.

I rein in my own horse at the side of the road, my heart skipping with surprise at the sight of the raven-haired thief riding towards me. _But my twisted selfish relief is stronger than my surprise, because as much as I would rather keep her safe, I need her beside me more than I can admit._

I wait for Sapphire to catch up with me, fighting with myself whether to demand she return to Riften or to beg her to never leave my side. _Or_ _maybe_ _I should let it be her choice, just as this was mine._

A minute later, Sapphire reins in her horse sharply beside me, the creature snorting in approval at the reprieve from what was clearly a hard ride to catch up with me. The thief glares at me, her raven hair escaping from beneath her hood and a deep frown of irritation at brow. 'Nice of you to leave without me,' she says sarcastically.

'Nice of you to storm off in the first place,' I reply with a smile.

She doesn't smile back. 'When I said we should go to the Sanctuary, I didn't mean you should literally leave right there and then,' she tells me.

'You were right,' I answer. 'I don't want to waste any more time.'

'I wasn't right,' Sapphire says, her tone vehement and her eyes bright. 'I shouldn't have said what I did to you. I didn't mean it, and I'm... I'm sorry.'

'You don't need to-' I start, but Sapphire cuts over me.

'I do, and I'm sorry,' she says. 'I made it sound like this is all your fault, that you're weak and a fool and have brought this upon yourself. I don't think that at all. You're... look, you're stronger than you think you are, Wren.' Her voice falters and the fierceness in her hazel eyes diminishes as she looks at me. 'I just wish you could see it and believe it.'

I stare at her, my hands gripping the reins tightly, wishing I could tell her how much I value her, how strong she is in comparison to me, and that if our roles were reversed, I would follow her to whatever end she was determined to face. 'You help me see it,' I say softly. 'And you make me want to believe it.' I manage a small smile. 'Because if I was even half as strong as you, I expect half this shit wouldn't have ever happened, Saph.'

A true smile fractures the thief's pretty face. 'Then I guess it's a good thing you've got me to help you fix all this shit that's happened,' she says. 'Talking of which, we should get moving. Night will be falling in a few hours and I'd rather not be stumbling around the forest trying to find the Sanctuary in the dark.'

'I told Karliah and Rune to make you go back to the Guild,' I say, knowing that there is nothing I could say to dissuade her.

'And I told them they were idiots for letting you go off alone,' Sapphire says. 'You don't need my help cutting Astrid's throat, but I can at least try to help you get in and out of there alive. I'm coming with you,' she says sharply before I can argue. 'Just accept it. And don't even suggest that I should go back to the Sepulcher, Wren. Gods and rituals aside, I don't...' Her words tail off for a second. 'I don't want to be there waiting for him,' she finishes, not needing to tell me who she means.

'But you'd happily run into him out here?' I say lightly.

Although she makes a small snort of laughter, I see no smile in her eyes now. 'I guess if he really wants to find us, we're screwed wherever we go,' she murmurs before she looks down at her hands, toying with the tangle of reins between her fingers.

Whatever joking reply I might have made falters on my lips as I suddenly recognise the look in her eyes, having felt it inside my own heart for too long. _She's afraid, and she's desperately trying not to_ _show it or feel it_ _._

'Then let's go,' I say briskly, not wanting to continue the topic of conversation. 'Although you know I have no idea exactly _where_ we're going, right? Beyond finding somewhere _south of the city, below the road in the grey pine forest,_ I'm completely lost here.'

'Below the road?' Sapphire repeats, looking back up with a thoughtful frown pulling at her brow. 'I think we went along a road that rises over a small waterfall on the way to the city. There could be a cave there.'

'Were there grey pines?' I ask.

'I can't remember,' she says. 'Maybe? I don't know.'

'Then we should go find out,' I say, nudging my horse onward, suddenly feeling slightly less daunted by the prospect. _If she's afraid, I know I cannot be too, and I'll do anything I can to calm her fears._

Sapphire urges her own mount forward to keep up with me. 'Provided we find the Sanctuary in the first place, what's our plan for when we actually get there?' she says. 'Somehow I doubt they're going to just let us walk in and get close enough to Astrid to kill her.'

'I'm already part of the Brotherhood,' I say. 'I'll tell them that the Guild isn't worth our time now and we want to make coin in a more profitable way.' I hesitate, forcing myself to believe that Mercer was right and Astrid is oblivious to our true connection. _But she'd be stupid not to be at least slightly suspicious of my sudden appearance._ 'I'll say that Sithis came to me in a vision and told me where to find them,' I say. 'I'll tell Astrid that he's called upon me to serve her any way I can.'

Sapphire makes a small sigh. 'You really have spent too much time with daedra worshippers lately,' she mutters, but she does not say anything more, and I take her silence for acceptance of my plan, flimsy as it may be.

We ride on in silence, the rain falling harder for an hour but easing after the next, the mists soon starting to congregate heavily between the trees as the day wears on, bathing the forest in a dim colourless wash that tricks my mind and makes every pine tree seem grey. As the sun begins to set somewhere beyond the trees and the light starts to fade into a dusky twilight, the road ahead rises over a rocky incline, and I hear a distant sound of rushing water.

'That's the waterfall ahead,' Sapphire says.

I rein my horse in hard and look around, straining my eyes through the mounting shadows, my heart seeming to freeze in my chest when my gaze registers the colour of the nearby pines. The ashy grey trunks of the trees blur in my eyes as I look around sharply, noticing the faded green-grey pine needles littering the soggy earth, when I notice a worn path twenty or so feet away that leads off from the main road.

'Wren,' Sapphire starts quietly, but I have already kicked my horse onward.

I sense her follow behind me, but I hear little else beyond the loud and fast thudding of my heart as I take the worn path away from the road, my horse's step more cautious as we navigate the overgrown foliage and jutting rocks, the way sloping down abruptly and twisting to the side around to the base of the hill.

Eventually, the path lets out into a small rocky clearing hidden in the shadow of the road high above and I rein in my horse; the grey pines press in at the edges of the clearing while a small willow tree overhangs a small, circular pond nestled close at the base of the hill - and yet despite the wet rushing sound I heard in the distance when I approached, I see no waterfall letting out into the rocky pool and I can no longer hear the sound of water.

 _I don't see any movement or hear anything at all,_ I think, realising that there is a peculiar stillness encompassing the clearing in which I have found myself. _Even the air itself is still._ The mists curtain the trees at the edges of the clearing and the forest breeze seems not to touch this place, the silken branches of the willow tree hanging deathly still while the waters of the pool are devoid of ripples, and it is as if the mists shroud and silence all life in this place.

I take a tentative breath, only just realising that my heart has been as still as my surroundings; the quiet sound of my breath seems to disturb the serenity of the clearing, and above my head I hear a bird take flight from the trees.

I slip down from my horse just as Sapphire catches up to me, although I do not turn to look at her. I leave my horse to its own will as my feet take me forward to the edge of the pool, where I realise that the still waters are shadowed heavily by the willow tree, leaving the water appearing to be almost a deep pitch black.

'It's...' My voice tails off, and suddenly I become aware of a strange numbness settling in my limbs, as if some of the deathly tranquillity has pervaded my body. _My throat doesn't ache or hurt at all,_ I realise suddenly, raising my hands to my neck and feeling the ribboned skin, my fingertips brushing senselessly against the scar. 'It's beautiful,' I whisper.

'Beautiful?' Sapphire repeats from behind me, her voice brash, as if purposefully to dispel the silence of the place. 'It's a bloody pond, Wren. Probably _literally_ bloody, if they wash their hands in there.'

'It's still beautiful,' I say, the unexpected calmness in my heart not lifting as I turn to face her, finding that she has dismounted and followed me to the water's edge. 'It's... peaceful.'

'Then we're clearly standing in different places,' the thief says with a shudder, casting her gaze around the clearing uneasily. As she looks back at me, something changes in her expression and keen doubt clouds her hazel eyes. 'Wren, are you sure-'

'I'm not asking you to stay,' I say before she can finish, strangely relieved to see her apprehension and wanting her to listen to her own foreboding. 'Please, Saph. It's safer that I do this alone, and I _can_ do this alone.'

'I don't want you to,' she says, biting her lip in an uncharacteristically uncertain manner. 'But this... look, maybe I was wrong. We could go back and wait for Karliah. One of those Nightingale abilities she was talking about might be able to help us.'

I open my mouth to reply, to tell her that I cannot leave now, to admit to her the strange sense inside my heart that she _should_ leave now - but before I can speak, I hear a soft high laugh from behind us.

'Nightingale, songbird, black feathered crow,' a voice sings. 'Tear their pretty necks and watch their sweet blood flow.'

I react quicker than Sapphire at the sound of the voice, and my silver dagger is drawn from my thigh a second before hers as we whirl around to find a slender shadowed figure appearing from the mists at the edge of the clearing and stepping out into the dying light.

Dressed in patched scarlet and black clothing and with a matching hat perched jauntily atop a mop of red hair, the man freezes in dramatic surprise at the sight of us. The stranger's large shadowed grey eyes widen inquisitively and his mouth stretches into a smile beneath high sharp cheekbones, lending his slender face a skeletal quality as he looks slowly between me and Sapphire.

'Stay back,' I say warningly before the man can speak, tightening my grip on my dagger and hoping that my recent training with Rune wins out over my fear. 'Take a step closer and we'll kill you.'

The man throws his arms wide and a bright jingling noise cuts into the clearing, confusing me for a moment before I notice that there are rows of small bells on his sleeves. 'Kill me?' the man repeats, as I wonder how he managed to approach us so silently. 'But we've only just met!'

With a speed I did not expect, the man leaps forward, the bells ringing wildly as he closes the gap between us and stops with a flourish five feet away, grinning widely.

'Back off!' Sapphire hisses, her fingers flexing on her dagger as the horses whinny and skitter in fright at the suddenness of the stranger's movements and the sound of the jangling. 'You think we won't kill you, little man?'

'Kill me, kill me,' the man sings back at her, before his smile vanishes abruptly and some dangerous fire darkens his large deep-set eyes. 'Oh, no,' he murmurs, his voice dropped low and his words soft and slick. 'No, no, no one must die, not until I find out the truth... what are you doing in this quiet oasis, this paradise in the mists, this secret... sanctuary?'

The emphasis he places on the word freezes my body, some small unavoidable truth flickering inside me. _He's one of them,_ I think, my heart racing with the sudden realisation. _He's part of the Dark Brotherhood, and this really is the_ _ir_ _Sanctuary._ _My Sanctuary._

'Who are you?' I whisper.

He inclines his head, the bells on his hat tinkling. At our closer proximity, I notice the eerie stillness of his shoulders and chest, as if he is not drawing breath. 'Me?' he says softly, his voice still quiet and his mouth unsmiling. 'I'm.... listening to you.' Suddenly the man shrieks loudly with laughter, startling a few birds nesting in the trees and making me jump just as abruptly. 'Oh, forgive me, I jest,' he says, still giggling. 'In fact, I _am_ the jester.'

'Answer the question, _jester,'_ Sapphire hisses. 'Your name or you die.'

'Oh, have mercy, Cicero is only playing with you!' he cries out, clutching his heart dramatically, making the bells on his clothing tinkle merrily. 'Cicero, that is my name, and that is your answer! Now play fair, I answered your question, so you must answer mine. This is my mother's sacred pond, I'll have you know, and she doesn't appreciate unwanted guests.' His grey eyes flash into mine. 'Are you a guest, or are you an... intruder?'

Although I can scarcely believe it, my arm moves of its own accord and I lower my dagger, suddenly feeling like I no longer need it. 'I'm neither,' I say, feeling Sapphire's shocked gaze from beside me, but I do not turn to look at her, keeping my eyes fixed on the man. 'I was called here by Astrid,' I tell him, hoping that will be enough.

The jester's eyes widen further as they dance over my body, taking in my features as if studying them for verification. 'Astrid, you say?' He glances between me and Sapphire, the raven-haired thief still holding her dagger poised to strike. 'Two small stars gazing up at the night sky. And your names, stars?'

'My name is Wren,' I say before Sapphire can tell me not to answer.

Silence hangs between us for a few seconds, the jester's colourless eyes flickering quickly over my body again, my hair, my face, before finally settling on my eyes as a small smile slowly breaks over his face.

'A little bird, flown home at last,' Cicero breathes, some strange delight flashing in his eyes as my heart twists at his words, my mind immediately jumping to the last person to call me _little bird._ 'We've been waiting for you.'

'Waiting for me?' I say cautiously, unease fluttering in my stomach.

'Oh yes, oh yes, Cicero has been waiting,' he says excitedly. 'Astrid has been waiting. Come, sweet bird. Let's go to her. Let's prove her wrong.'

He turns around and darts towards the base of the hill, gesturing for me to follow as he ducks into the shadows beneath a rocky overhang. Only a second passes before I sheathe my dagger, strangely not afraid to obey the jester's request. _A_ _nd if A_ _strid is really here, I can't turn back now._

'Wren,' Sapphire says quietly before I can take a step forward to follow Cicero.

I turn around to look at her, seeing the fear in her eyes, entirely unguarded for the first time. I reach out to touch her hand still clutching her dagger. 'Wait here,' I tell her. 'Please-'

'No, we mustn't wait!' Cicero says from the shadows. 'And you mustn't fear, stars. Remember, no one dies, not until we have the truth, and the truth is...' His voice tails off, and I hear a jingling of bells as he shakes his head. 'I've forgotten. But I know that none of us will die!'

I don't let go of Sapphire's hand as I look back at her. 'In and out alive, remember?' I say lightly.

Sapphire looks at me for a moment before she pulls her hand from beneath mine and sheathes her blade with a sharp snap. 'And I thought we were surrounded by fools at the Guild,' she mutters, keeping her hand resting on her dagger.

I manage a smile before I turn around and together we walk towards the jester, who stands waiting in the shadows beneath a rocky overhang, although when we come to stand behind him, I realise there is little to see beyond the sweeping stone face of the hill. The stone's surface is strangely smooth and devoid of natural crags but otherwise unremarkable, and I hesitate as I look around, confusion settling in amongst my nerves as I fail to see a door or some other way into wherever the Sanctuary is hidden.

'Oh Astrid, sweet Astrid,' Cicero sings softly as he raises his hands and steps close to the stone. _'Coin over blood,_ she said. _She'd rather pick gold from pockets than hearts from corpses,_ she said. She's wrong, oh, she's wrong, look who's here to show her she's wrong!' He runs his slender hands over the stone, his long fingers ghostly white through the shadows as he caresses the unnaturally smooth rock. 'Come, Wren! Come, star! Night is falling, and stars and birds must be safe inside their Sanctuary when the darkness comes... it comes for us all... oh, it comes for us all...'

His words fade to a soft singing hum as his hands glide over the stone for a moment longer before he steps back and takes his hands away with a flourish and a tinkle of bells and I suddenly realise that the stone is not the blank smooth expanse I thought it was before; through the shadows, I see a small black marking upon the stone where Cicero laid his hands, the mark seemingly clawed deep into the stonework. _A hand print,_ I think, wondering if Cicero somehow marked it with his touch or if it was there all along and I just did not see it.

I have no time to wonder further, as Cicero places both hands on the stone again and leans forward. With a scraping sound, the stone gives way, a tall wide slab of the surface opening like a door to reveal a passageway cut into the hill. Steps lead down into unknown depths and warm candlelight flickers upwards from whatever lies below.

'In we go,' the jester says brightly, bounding across the threshold. 'It's always nice coming home, isn't it? And wipe your feet,' he adds sharply, throwing a quick glance back at us. 'We must keep the Sanctuary tidy for Mother, you know.'

For a moment, my heart flutters nervously like desperately beating wings as I stand at the threshold to the Sanctuary, until a curious calmness seems to settle inside me, and I exchange one last look with Sapphire before I step forward and walk inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I just wanted to cut this whole chapter out and burn it. You know I hate these interlude chapters where not a lot happens but Wren has to go through it all anyway. Sorry it is very boring compared to earlier chapters. Fortunately, things are going to pick up going forward, now this one's out the way.  
> A few things:  
> Karliah said in Chapter 23 that the Sepulcher was a 'few days walk from the city' - I edited that out and moved the Sepulcher closer. Too much travelling time is dull, and this chapter is dull enough.  
> Also I didn't like it in canon where you and Brynjolf can become Nightingales. They are a trinity and for all his betrayal, Mercer is still a Nightingale. Wren will be the only new initiate until one of the other Nightingales dies. And I hope the other lore changes I've made with regards to the Nightingales are okay!
> 
> Thank you for 2000+ views, that's amazing! Thank you so much for reading and for your interest in this story, I greatly treasure every comment and kudos that I receive <3 
> 
> PS. I really love Gallus and Karliah and I wish I could do their relationship justice.  
> PPS. Also I really love Cicero and now I wish I could write a Cicero romance fic. Ah why must there be so many ideas for stories and not enough time to write them :(  
> PPPS. Lots of girl love and friendship fluff here because Saph and Karliah are babes <3  
> PPPPS. Low key shipping Rune and Karliah  
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> *** Not Necessary To Read ***
> 
> I know I'm permanently complaining about shit - you come here to read Birdsong, not my end notes - but I don't have a 23k chapter to excuse my delay this time (although 19k isn't too far off?!) and I hate letting people down and failing to meet my own deadlines; I know I said I was going to get back into regular posting and I want to explain my absence (and explain the shitty state of this chapter). Truthfully my depression is fucking killing me and has been for a long fucking time, and recent events have just made everything so much worse. Writing has felt very hollow since and it's been hard to get any emotion across, as you can probably tell by this scattered and not very interesting chapter. But the point of this note is not to wallow in self pity but to say that I will get back on top of this soon, and please rest assured I will not be abandoning this story, even if it takes me a little while to get my head in order. Things will be getting a little more exciting in the next few chapters so that should make it easier to write, but I'm sorry, I can't promise when I will update, only that I will update as often as I can - because this story keeps me going, and I'm going to finish it to the very best of my abilities. Thank you for your time, you honestly don't know what it means to have had my writing received so positively and I'll never be able to thank you enough for that <3
> 
> [End Unnecessary Rambling]


	26. Sanctuary

The light dances eerily as we descend the steep steps that spiral downward into the depths of the Sanctuary. Candles burn brightly from small hollows in the stone walls and a scent I cannot identify lingers faintly in the air, something floral and earthy with the unmistakable metallic tang of blood. I follow Cicero in silence, part of me still hardly believing that I am finally walking to meet with Astrid. _And finally I will have the opportunity that I was too afraid to seize all those months ago,_ I think, steeling my heart against the fear that rises inside me as I remember how it felt when I stood before Astrid in the shack, when I realised who she was, when I thought of both the life she stole from me and the life she sent me to at Honorhall. _I was too afraid then, but now she dies by my hand, whatever the price. Even if that price is me._

As the stairwell lets out into a narrow stone passageway, I suddenly register Sapphire's footsteps behind me, the sound reminding me of her presence and forcing uncertainty back into my heart, not in fear of giving my own life but with the realisation that it is not only my life that I might have to give. _I won't let that happen,_ I tell myself firmly, convincing myself that this will indeed play out exactly as we said. _In and out alive... at least for Sapphire._

I almost walk into Cicero as he stops abruptly just before the end of the hallway, where swathes of heavy red velvet hang from the ceiling and conceal whatever lies beyond. The jester theatrically stumbles as I quickly step backwards to avoid colliding fully with him, wary of getting too close - although I see no weapons on his person, I know I would be the fool if I did not keep a cautious distance. _As unusual as he is, Cicero is clearly a part of the Dark Brotherhood, which means he could be as dangerous as Astrid._

'Clumsy birds should watch where they're going,' he whispers, his reprimand accompanied by a quiet giggle, before he jerks his head to the curtain behind him. 'And that's where we're going. We're going to surprise her. Everyone loves surprises, don't they?'

He grins widely as he seems to wait for me to answer, but I find my words falter in my throat, suddenly concerned that catching Astrid off-guard is likely the worst way to arrive at the Sanctuary. _And surely the jester knows that,_ I think as I stare at Cicero for a moment, noticing how the candlelight flickers uneasily across his skeletal face, his angular and animated features seeming sharper than they did in the misty twilight of the clearing. _For all I know, maybe this is all just a game to him, one that ends in my death._

Cicero's pale grey eyes widen as he evidently notices my hesitation. 'The sweet bird doesn't like surprises?' he says softly, sounding almost offended by the thought. 'But this is a good one, Wren. You'll like it, you'll see.' His mouth pulls sharply into a wide smile. 'But the best is yet to come. And you'll like that too... you'll see it too...'

His voice tails off as he turns around, and I don't have time to suggest an alternative to his plan before Cicero raises his hands and reaches out for the velvet drapes.

I half-expect the jester to tear open the curtain in dramatic fashion, but Cicero's pale fingers trace gently over the dark scarlet velvet, searching out the opening before teasing the curtain apart just enough to let a slither of the room beyond into my view.

The sound of voices carries over to us as Cicero motions me closer to take a look, but I have already stepped forward cautiously to the curtain to see what lies beyond. _I'd feel safer if I had the Nightingale abilities Karliah promised me,_ I think as I look through the slit in the velvet, steeling myself for what I will find. _And who I will find._

The room beyond the curtain is small and square, with another shadowy passageway leading away from the far corner of the room. Bookshelves and cabinets line the walls, the surfaces crowded with dusty tomes and objects I do not have the time to discern - my eyes are drawn swiftly to the centre of the room, where four people are gathered around a large square table, illuminated by a candelabra directly above and with a collection of papers spread between them. My heart feels tight in my chest as I study the people around the table, glancing briefly over the hulking form of a pale-haired and bearded Nord man in rough tattered leathers and the smaller figures of a muscular male Redguard and a female dark elf both dressed in robes of scarlet and black cloth; although somewhere in my mind I register that Sapphire and I are undeniably outnumbered, I give little attention to the strangers around the table, my gaze pulled uncontrollably to the only familiar person in the room. Standing beside the Nord and with her back to me, the blonde-haired woman leans over the table, her slender form clothed in a sleek scarlet leather and a pair of blades fastened at her thighs.

The faint hiss of the candles and the sound of their voices seems to vanish, my ears filled with only the dull thudding of my heart as I stare at Astrid, hardly comprehending that I have found her again at last, my mind reeling painfully with the memory of the night I saw her standing over my mother and father, the scent of the blood, the words she spoke to me as their bodies lay torn between us. _They aren't better dead, but she will be._

'I don't care if you have to slaughter the entire congregation to get to him, just make it happen,' she says sharply, her voice clawing something deep in my heart as I force myself back to the present. 'The priest dies before the new moon and I'm not taking _but the poor villagers were protecting him_ as an excuse for your failure. If they get in your way, kill them all.'

'I doubt you'll have any trouble from them,' the Redguard says, his voice low and rich. 'I've heard his sermons could stand to be a little more... colourful.' He makes a deep laugh. 'When you paint the walls with his blood, I expect they'll call it divine intervention.'

'Divine intervention,' the hulking Nord scoffs, his words little more than a growl. He turns to the blonde assassin at his side, and with his face now in profile, I see the candlelight catching bright yellow gleam of his eyes as he looks at Astrid. 'Let me go instead of the elf. I'll give you the massacre you seek.'

'I know you would,' Astrid replies, her voice softening almost imperceptibly. 'But no, I have a more... enjoyable contract in mind for you.'

The Nord snarls in frustration but does not argue. 'Fine,' he says before he turns to the dark elf. 'Then make it bloody and make it good.'

'When do I ever not?' the Dunmer says, her voice crisp and enunciated in contrast with the Nord's. 'If I am to go to the Reach, should I not make the most of my time there? What happened to the contract we were discussing last week, the Breton girl with the philandering lover?'

'She never sent the payment,' the Redguard says. 'Endearing as it is, her revenge will have to wait until we see the coin.'

'No,' Astrid says, before she looks up at the dark elf. 'We've waited long enough for her to give us what we're owed. Kill the man, and leave the body in the girl's house. Make sure the guards find him there and know who wanted him dead. If she won't pay us with gold, she can pay us with her own life.' She makes a quiet laugh, the sound sending a chill through every inch of my skin. 'And such a pretty face would look twice as beautiful behind bars.'

The fair-haired Nord beside her barks a rough laugh at her words. The dark elf only nods silently while the Redguard makes a quiet murmur of agreement, and in the moment's silence that follows, I stand frozen with fear, not daring to even take a breath. _If Karliah were here, she could shoot Astrid with one of her arrows and disappear into the shadows before they even realised what had happened_ _,_ I think, despair and regret and frustration cutting through me when I realise that I should have waited for Karliah's help before facing Astrid instead of foolishly believing that I could do this alone and make it out unharmed. _She ends lives with mere words, and somehow I have to find a way to end hers._

Suddenly needing to reassure myself that I am not walking entirely defenceless to my death, my hand flutters down to my silver dagger, but before my fingers can graze the handle, a loud jangling of bells suddenly rings from beside me as Cicero leaps forward and wrenches down the curtain with a flourish, the velvet folds collapsing to the ground in a pool of red.

'Oh, Astrid!' he calls loudly as my heart seems to stop in my chest, the jester's voice startling not only me but the four assassins around the table too. 'Lady Astrid! I've brought you a present, Astrid!'

As Cicero gestures theatrically towards me, the assassins turn around, and for a moment each wear only a vaguely irritated expression, as if they are used to the jester's dramatic entrances and outbursts - but when they realise the nature of Cicero's present and that two strangers accompany him, the assassins react quicker than I can blink, and the keen whisper of blades being drawn is lost beneath the warning growl that rises from the pale-haired Nord's throat, the sound more animal than human.

'What is this?' the Redguard says sharply as he and the Dunmer step around the table to stand beside Astrid and the Nord, the elf wielding two small grey steel daggers while the Redguard's hand rests on the pommel of his scimitar. 'Cicero-'

'Cicero has caught a bird!' the jester cries out, seemingly unperturbed by their aggressive reaction, the bells ringing with each word as he points to me and Sapphire, and out of the corner of my eye, I see the raven-haired thief grip her sheathed dagger tightly, evidently ready to draw it. 'Two birds! A dove, a nightingale, a raven, a wren, look, look! Wren has flown home! I've brought Wren home!'

'Wren?' the Redguard echoes, his dark eyes flitting between Sapphire and me, some comprehension dawning on his face. 'You mean _this_ is-'

'Astrid!' Cicero sings loudly, drowning out the man's voice. 'You were wrong! You said she was a waste of time, a waste of gold, all she _wanted_ was gold, but she's here! She's here for blood!' A wide delighted grin pulls across his face as he looks at the blonde assassin at the table. 'She's here for you, Astrid,' he says quietly, his voice dropped low and sinister. 'Won't you welcome her home?'

The assassins glance at Astrid, seemingly awaiting her order to strike or let us live, but her gaze is fixed on me. My heart clenches in fear as I meet her eyes and watch a flurry of expressions flitting across her face, anger mingled with confusion and shock - and despite my fear, I feel a sharp surge of satisfaction to see her caught off-guard by my sudden appearance.

 _For once, for this brief terrifying moment, I have power over_ _another person_ _._

'Sithis told me where to find you,' I say into the silence before Astrid can speak, the words seeming to slip from my mouth without my mind even processing them first. 'He told me to seek out the Sanctuary. I am here to answer his summons.'

'See?' Cicero says excitedly, hopping from one foot to the other and making the bells on his clothing ring loudly into the tense silence. 'See, Astrid? You told me Wren wouldn't, and I told you Wren would, now look who's come home to the Dark Brotherhood!' He giggles in delight, seemingly surprising himself with his words. 'I should write that one down,' he mutters quickly under his breath, his hands fluttering over his patched clothing. 'Alas, two birds but no quill, no ink, and certainly no stone upon which to write my genius...'

The jester's voice fades to unintelligible whispers and nobody speaks for a few moments, the silent tension in the air disturbed only by the hulking Nord at Astrid's side, who makes another low growl in his throat, his yellow eyes flashing dangerously through the shadows as he looks across the room at us. I barely register him or the unease that claws inside me at the sound; as Astrid continues to hold my gaze wordlessly, what brief satisfaction I felt a moment ago quickly vanishes and I struggle to keep my expression impassive as I look back at her, suddenly panicking that she knows my intent, that my desire for her death is written upon my face and that she will cut my throat before I can claim hers with my own blade. _I will see her dead,_ I think, unable to keep the thought from my mind, imagining the moment when I will sink my blade into her skin and watch the blood flow from her body, realising that it is no longer a mere fantasy and that she is as real as my desire for her death. _I will taste her open flesh on the air, I will hear her choke on her blood and her last breaths, I will watch her die as I swore to Sithis that I would._

The thoughts disappear from my mind and I am forced back into the present when I hear Astrid make a quiet tinkling laugh.

'What a fortuitous surprise this is,' she murmurs finally, seeming to have regained her composure, the lulling softness of her voice and the small smile forming at her mouth setting my skin crawling. 'And such a kind gift from the Dread Lord, to deliver a lost bird home.' She inclines her head as she lets the silence hang for a moment longer, her expression no longer shocked or confused but instead mildly amused. 'But why so hesitant to leave the shadows, Wren?' she says, and beneath the slick gentleness in her voice, I hear a taunting note of danger. 'If Sithis called you here, then you have nothing to fear from anyone in this Sanctuary. Step forward into the light.' The smile at her mouth deepens in amusement as her gaze flickers downward. 'And you needn't cling to your dagger like that, sweet thing.'

I pull my hand away from my silver dagger, noticing the whitening of my knuckles and not realising that I had even been clutching the handle so tightly. _Neither my dagger nor the shadows cannot protect me from what I must do,_ I think, steeling myself to walk forward and approach Astrid - but before I can take a step, I feel Sapphire's hand brush against my arm, the contact making me jump as I remember I did not come here alone.

'Wren,' Sapphire murmurs, the single word both a warning and a plea, and when I turn back to her, I see the tension in her jaw and the paleness of her cheeks, the candlelight of the room throwing into sharp relief the fear and caution in her hazel eyes. _She's afraid, and I've caused it_ , I realise, regret cutting deep inside my heart as I think how selfish and stupid I was to let her come with me, familiar enough with my own pain and fear but having no desire to inflict the same upon Sapphire. _But there's no way we can turn back now._

Before I can try to reassure her, Astrid makes a tinkling laugh. 'Oh, you needn't fear us either, dove,' she says to Sapphire, before she glances at the assassins beside her. 'Put away your weapons, Gabriella. You're frightening our guests.'

The dark elf slides her daggers back into their sheathes immediately. 'My apologies,' the Dunmer says, her dark scarlet eyes surveying us from beneath high angular brows. 'The guests we usually receive here are taken straight to the torture room, you see.'

The Redguard makes a quick deep laugh. 'Well, that's sure to help them feel welcome,' he comments mildly.

'We shouldn't make them feel welcome,' the Nord growls, his large hands flexing as his yellow eyes flash threateningly into mine before he looks at Sapphire, and although he does not appear to be armed, the thick muscles rippling beneath his leather armour force me to realise that he has no need for steel. 'They came uninvited,' he says, turning his gaze to Astrid. 'We should take them where the others go. Let me question these _birds_ and find out what they're doing here.'

'Perhaps we ought to let them explain it for themselves before you make a meal of them,' the dark elf named Gabriella suggests lightly.

'No meals!' Cicero agrees fervently, nodding at the Dunmer with a jingling of bells and a bright grin upon his face. 'Unless it's horker stew. Who doesn't like tasty horker-'

'By Sithis, enough of your chattering,' Astrid snaps before he can say a word more, her soft voice suddenly razor-sharp as her blue eyes flash dangerously at the jester. 'You've had your fun, now silence your tongue or I'll tear it out myself.'

Cicero covers his mouth with both hands in mock horror, but he obeys and does not make a sound, even silencing the tinkling of his bells as Astrid turns back to me.

'Step forward, Wren,' she says, the vicious edge still undercutting her words, and I know I cannot hesitate a second time. _And I_ _'ll h_ _ave to get close to her if I'm going to kill her._

My stomach knotted tight with nerves, I step over the fallen velvet curtain and walk forward to the centre of the room, leaving Sapphire behind me in the shadows of the passageway and closing the gap between myself and the assassins until I am standing right in front of Astrid.

She is slightly shorter than I recall from my memories, although I still feel half my size as I stand before her, close enough to catch her scent of faint nightshade lingering with some other flower I do not know, close enough to see the first soft lines of age that crease her brow and eyes. _And those eyes aren't as vivid a blue as I've always imagined,_ I realise, suddenly hit with the realisation that this is not a dream or a painful memory, re-imagined endlessly in my mind. _She's real, this is real, she's flesh and blood right in front of me,_ I think, my heart beating hard as I wonder briefly whether I can be quick enough to strike now, to finally _end it_ now. Only a second passes before I discard that idea, knowing that while the assassins were caught off-guard by our unexpected arrival at their Sanctuary, they would kill me and Sapphire in an instant if I even drew my dagger. _I need Astrid alone, just the two of us, so no one else can kill or be killed except for her or me._

Astrid surveys me silently for several seconds, my nerves heightening with each moment until my heart jumps in fear as the blonde assassin suddenly steps forward and reaches out with her hand, bringing her fingers up to my neck. I force myself not to flinch back, not wanting to show weakness, although I cannot help a shiver of fear cut sharply through my body as her fingertips graze the scar across my throat.

'And what happened here?' Astrid murmurs as a needling pain rises in my torn skin beneath the cold touch of her fingers. 'You must have made someone very angry, for your delicate skin to be so... brutalised. Did it hurt terribly, sweet thing?'

I stare back at her, wondering if she somehow knows who cut my throat. 'All it did was make me realise that I'd rather kill rather than be killed,' I say harshly, having no intention to admit to her that it was my own weakness and stupidity that slit my throat. 'That's why I'm here. To serve the Brotherhood as you once asked me. To serve you,' I add, making my voice slightly softer. _To serve you the justice that is long overdue._

Astrid makes a quiet laugh. 'Then serve you shall,' she murmurs, before she takes her hand from my neck and inclines her head slightly in the direction of the assassins beside her. 'Leave us,' she tells them, although she does not break her gaze away from my face. 'We will finish our business here later, after I have spoken with our... unexpected arrivals.'

The Redguard and the Dunmer acquiesce to her command without argument, turning away from the table and leaving the room through the darkened passageway on the other side of the room. _They're all leaving us alone with her,_ I think as my heart flutters nervously in my chest with anticipation, although my sudden hopes are quickly dashed as the hulking fair haired Nord seems inclined to ignore Astrid's order and he stays where he is at her side, his yellow eyes fixed on Sapphire and his large hands clenched before him as he cracks his knuckles into the silence, the sound raising the hairs on the back of my neck.

Cicero's quiet giggle of delight is almost strangely comforting to my ears as he appears beside me, an enthralled expression upon his face. 'Look who was right,' he sings, rocking on his feet excitedly but not moving to obey Astrid's command and follow the others out of the room either. 'The Night Mother told me, the shadows spoke to me, whispered sweet things into Cicero's ears, our Mother spoke to her good servant, her good jester, and look who was right... the foolish jester was right... our dear Mother was right...'

As his words fade into soft murmurs, Astrid turns to face Cicero, and the ice in her eyes freezes my own heart in fear. 'The Night Mother?' she repeats evenly, her voice curiously pleasant and at odds with the chill in her gaze. 'Remind me, Cicero, who speaks for the Night Mother? Who speaks for this family?'

Cicero's large grey eyes darken abruptly with her words, and the dreamy expression upon his skeletal face vanishes. 'The Listener,' he whispers slowly, and I notice how his fists are clenched tightly at his sides. 'You.'

The word hangs darkly in the air for a moment as the two stare at each other, until suddenly the jester drops down dramatically onto one knee, his eyes wide as he raises his hands to Astrid in exaggerated supplication.

'Oh, mistress, please don't punish poor Cicero!' he cries out. 'He's naught but a fool, a silly mad fool, one who humbly begs your forgiveness - he knows he doesn't speak for the Night Mother, he knows he shouldn't have brought anyone here without the sweet Lady Astrid's consent, he knows he was wrong all along! Cicero is sorry, so sorry - and here, I'll prove it!' He bounds back up to his feet nimbly and reaches one hand into his sleeve, his expression wild. 'Watch Cicero prove how sorry he is, sweet Astrid!'

My heart skips a beat as the jester draws forth a small silver butter knife from his sleeve. I swiftly step back in fear, my hand fluttering down to my dagger as I suddenly realise that he may be about to use the weapon on me - but before I can back away out of his reach or draw my dagger, Cicero raises the knife high and plunges the blade into his own chest.

I gasp with shock as the jester gargles and splutters, his face contorted in pain and the bells sewn into his clothes jingling as he stumbles backwards and collapses down to his knees on the stone floor. I freeze in terror, his cries of agony echoing in my head loudly, not knowing whether to back away or step forward to try to help him. _I can cast my spell, maybe I can heal him,_ I think distantly, but before I can wonder why I should even want to save him, the jester suddenly writhes up and leaps back onto his feet with a wide gleeful grin on his face, at which point I notice that there is not a drop of blood on his clothing.

'And the jester lives!' Cicero says delightedly, laughing as he brandishes the butter knife in the air, the blade of the implement seemingly retracted into the slender handle and never having penetrated his flesh. 'Wasn't that funny? Your face, Wren,' he says between hysterical giggles as he throws a bright-eyed look in my direction. 'You look like you've seen a ghost! It was just a game, sweet bird, only a game. I told you, no one dies, remember?'

Over the jester's manic laughter, the Nord scoffs gruffly. 'One day he'll use the wrong blade then we'll really be laughing,' he says, seemingly unfazed by Cicero's performance.

'Leave us,' Astrid commands sharply as the jester opens his mouth to answer. 'Or I will play your game, and I don't use trick blades.'

Cicero wipes a tear of laughter from his eye before making a deep flourished bow. 'Of course, dear Astrid,' he says. 'Leave you I shall. And never fear, bad Cicero knows who really speaks for the Night Mother. He knows that we all answer to the night sky... he knows...'

Murmuring incoherently under his breath, Cicero turns away without a glance in my direction and follows in the footsteps of the Redguard and the dark elf, disappearing into the unlit passageway and leaving me and Sapphire alone with Astrid and the Nord.

Astrid turns back to me, the ice in her eyes diminished to a mild look of annoyance. 'Now that the theatrics are over, perhaps we might discuss why you're here,' she says, her tone brisk and businesslike. 'When last we met, you seemed rather reluctant to join my Brotherhood. Why have you chosen to abandon the Thieves Guild now, hm?'

I shrug, knowing I cannot afford to show sentimentality. 'The Guild is going under,' I say carelessly, as if the prospect means nothing to me. 'I need a place to stay, and gold. You paid me well.' I hesitate for a moment, remembering how terrified I was when we last met and deciding I do not want to appear so weak again. 'When you bothered to actually give me contracts,' I add with a touch of sarcasm in my voice.

Astrid laughs a quick laugh at my words, although I do not see any annoyance lingering in her eyes now. 'The sweet frightened kitten has grown claws since we last spoke,' she says. 'And I'm sure I can find a few tender specimens for you to sink those newfound claws into, pet.' Her eyes flicker behind me briefly to where Sapphire still stands in the shadows. 'And such a tender specimen you have brought with you,' Astrid murmurs as she looks back at me. 'Your companion is beautiful, Wren. The shadows didn't do her justice, when I followed both of you through the canals so long ago. Tell her to come forward into the light. If she wishes to trade thievery for death too, I'll need to look at her properly.'

I turn back to Sapphire, her hand still grasping the handle of her dagger and a wary expression on her face. As she meets my eyes, I feel a hard jolt of regret in my stomach at the realisation of where I have brought her, but before I can turn back to Astrid and tell her that Sapphire is not here to join the Dark Brotherhood, the raven-haired thief steps forward and walks across the room to stand beside me.

As Astrid carefully surveys Sapphire in silence, the hulking Nord eyes her with interest, an almost hungry smile curling at his mouth. 'Such a pretty little morsel,' he says huskily. 'Are you as tasty as you look, girl?'

Sapphire folds her arms and looks back at him coldly. 'Try to find out and I'll gut you where you stand,' she answers, her voice far stronger than I expect.

The fair Nord growls in laughter. 'Maybe I will,' he says, licking his lips as his yellow eyes gleam down at her. 'It's always more fun to play with food that tries not to be eaten.'

'Feisty though she may be, she's not a plaything, my dear,' Astrid says, a teasing tone behind her reprimand as she lays a hand on the Nord's arm, her gaze still fixed on Sapphire. 'She wants to join the Dark Brotherhood and serve like Wren. Is that right, dove? You wish to kill in my name, to spill blood at the behest of the Night Mother and to claim the souls that Sithis demands in the void?'

Sapphire's hard expression does not change as she stares back at Astrid. 'Depends on the pay,' she says nonchalantly, although I notice the unease lingering in her hazel eyes.

Astrid laughs a tinkling laugh. 'Blood, sweet thing,' she says. 'You'll be paid in blood.' Her eyes flicker over the thief as openly as the Nord's, although the blonde assassin appears distinctly less impressed with the young woman standing before her. 'Somehow I think that is too high a price for you, isn't it?'

'I've killed before,' Sapphire says brusquely.

'Is that so?' Astrid raises an eyebrow. 'And who have you killed, hm? Some poor soul on the road for their coin purse?' The assassin's fingers stroke slowly over the Nord's arm as he continues to watch Sapphire. 'Or perhaps a man who thought to take what wasn't offered?'

Sapphire does not answer, her gaze icy as she glares back at Astrid, although her silence is telling enough.

Astrid sighs softly and releases the Nord's arm. 'You may have killed, sweet thing, but you would rather not kill again. Unlike Wren, you don't enjoy the... taste.' Her blue eyes slide over to me, a small satisfied smile at her mouth. 'Since she tore open the old woman's throat, the gentle bird has longed for blood. For the power of taking a life. For the... justice that comes only with death.' Astrid's smile widens before she looks back at Sapphire. 'You, on the other hand, just want to survive and earn some coin, don't you? And the Dark Brotherhood is not the place for those desires.'

'I'm staying with Wren,' Sapphire says bluntly, evidently surmising that Astrid means to send her away. _Or worse_ _,_ I think, fear coursing through me when I try to discern what Astrid intends to do with Sapphire if she will not accept her into the Dark Brotherhood.

'Are you?' Astrid answers lightly. 'Wren has sworn herself to Sithis and to me, but I don't know you. I only know your pretty face and your fear.'

'I'm not afraid,' the thief says, her voice edged.

'Oh, but you are,' Astrid murmurs. 'And they say fear spoils the meat of tender lambs.' She laughs softly as she touches the Nord's arm again. 'What do you think, husband?' she asks the man, her words startling me when I realise that they are closer than mere fellow assassins. 'Can you smell the fear in her flesh? Can you taste her terror on the air she breathes?'

'That's why I wanted to play with her, Astrid,' the Nord tells her, as if it's obvious.

'Then maybe I should let you,' Astrid answers quietly, inclining her head as she eyes Sapphire for a few seconds longer, some decision seeming to form in her mind. 'But perhaps not,' she says eventually, her voice firmer as she takes her hand from the Nord's arm. 'Very well. You may stay with Wren, pretty lamb, and I swear you will come to no harm from my husband or myself. Although I see no use in recruiting you to the Brotherhood, I think perhaps you will nevertheless help Wren... learn.'

The Nord growls in irritation at her decision, but Astrid ignores him as she turns to me.

'And as for the frightened kitten with her new claws, who came uninvited for a place to stay and a way to make gold,' she says. 'You may have sworn yourself to me, Wren, but you have not been initiated into the Dark Brotherhood, and nor will you, until you prove yourself.'

'Prove myself?' I repeat sharply, afraid of what I will have to do before I am given the chance to get close to her. 'I've killed when you told me to. I didn't realise you needed something more than that.'

'Oh, you think I want only obedience?' Astrid makes a soft laugh. 'You think the Dread Lord wants you to just nod your pretty head and do his bidding? Following orders and cutting throats is too easy, Wren. You should know that by now.' Amusement gleams in her eyes as her gaze flickers briefly over the scar at my neck before she looks back at my face and her voice lowers to slick seduction. 'Sithis wants every part of you, not just your little hands and your precious nodding head. He wants your life, your submission and your reverence, for you to relish each kill as if you are giving your own soul to him.' She steps forward to me and raises her hand to my head, gently twirling a curl of my hair between her fingers as I force myself to remain still under her touch. 'You must drench yourself in their blood as if it is Dread Lord's seed,' she murmurs. 'And savour every drop spilled as a consummation of his will and your devotion. Sithis respects your obedience, sweet thing, but mindless killing has no place for true initiates of the Brotherhood. You must claim lives with your mind, your body, your soul, with every sense you have. Can you do that, little bird?'

I stare at her silently, feeling cold fingers of unease trail down my spine with her words, my heart fluttering nervously at the proximity of our bodies and what she is asking of me. _This is the price for my justice,_ I remind myself, knowing I could try to draw my blade right now and bury it in Astrid's stomach as she stands with her hand touching my hair. _But I want to relish every drop of her blood that I spill, I want to drench myself in it and watch her die slowly, and I can't do that if her husband tears both Sapphire and myself to shreds._

'You were right,' I say, surprising myself when I hear how steady my voice sounds. 'When I killed Grelod, it was more than justice. I... enjoyed it. For the first time in my life, I felt powerful. And I enjoyed that feeling.' I pause, and as I look back at the woman who murdered my parents, I suddenly no longer feel afraid. 'I came here for blood, not gold,' I tell her honestly. 'My life and body and soul belongs to Sithis, if he will have me. If _you_ will have me.'

Astrid smiles as she strokes my hair one last time. 'We will see, bird,' she says softly, although I can hear the approval in her voice. 'As our family grows, so too must our offerings to Sithis and his bride. If you wish to bind yourself to the Dark Brotherhood, you will earn your place here in the way we all did.' Astrid steps backwards and settles herself on the edge of the table, drawing one leg over the other languidly. 'Let's say... five lives, taken in Sithis' name and delivered to the void. Complete that task, then we will consider performing the initiation and welcoming you into the family.'

I steel myself at her demand, knowing that I crossed the threshold into the Sanctuary with the awareness that I would do whatever it takes to get close to her. _And there's enough blood already on my hands that I have surely earned my way in._ 'I have already sent lives to the void in his name,' I point out. 'Grelod-'

'Claiming the kills owed to your brothers and sisters is poor etiquette, my dear,' Astrid interrupts sweetly. 'We discussed that when we met, remember? I think the first life you sent to Sithis' embrace was our jealous lover's flower that you plucked on that night we met, wasn't it?'

I nod once, as if the first time we met was indeed in the abandoned shack with the blindfolded prisoner on her knees. _At least that memory is less painful to relieve than our true first meeting._ 'There was the Dunmer merchant in Riften too,' I say.

Astrid exhales a breathy laugh. 'Oh yes,' she says with a small smirk at her mouth. 'Such an exquisite kill. From the way the elf was discovered in his bed, I think you made Eravyn's last moments rather enjoyable, didn't you?'

I feel my cheeks blush at her words, suddenly conscious of Sapphire beside me and how I am laying bare truths that I have yet to admit to her. 'You gave me Nelia's contract after that,' I say swiftly, wanting to conclude this retelling of my past kills as quickly as possible, as if my victims might stay hidden in the furthest reaches of my mind if I do not think about them too long. _And Nelia was right all along,_ I think, unable to forget her words despite my best efforts, the scent of the skooma and the blood suddenly permeating my senses as if I am back there in the den. _I asked Sithis to leave her in peace, but no light or love has saved either of our souls._ 'There was an Argonian too,' I add quickly. 'I left his body with hers.'

'The lizard's life was not claimed by Sithis, nor was his death contracted by me,' Astrid says briskly. 'Mara's apprentice makes three offerings to the Dread Lord, so you have two left to give.'

The Nord scoffs with laughter. 'Killing a priest's apprentice shouldn't even count,' he mutters. 'Squishy soft flesh, their guts spill without even trying.'

'I killed a man in Windhelm too,' I say, ignoring both the Nord's words and the weight of Sapphire's gaze upon my face with my next confession. 'I didn't know his name.'

'And nor does Sithis care,' Astrid says, her tone slightly edged with impatience. 'Kill whomever you like, Wren, but I asked for five lives taken in the name of the Dread Lord, not taken for your own pleasure. Your place here will be earned by the kills that I give you, not those you take for yourself.' Her voice hardens further as her eyes narrow at me. 'However confused the wretched jester might be, I will make it clear for you. I speak for the Night Mother and for Sithis. I decide who dies and who lives in the name of the Dark Brotherhood.' Her eyes never leave mine as a small smile forms at her mouth. 'And as it happens, I recently received a contract that I think will prove your... commitment to the Brotherhood rather adequately.'

'Who is the mark?' I ask warily, simply hoping that I will not be sent to Windhelm or anywhere similarly cold again. _And I can't afford to travel so far away and risk letting Astrid slip through my fingers._

'Oh, an Imperial lowlife by the name of Lorias,' Astrid says, her tone lofty and purposefully careless. 'He frequents the Gravesend tavern, just down the road in Falkreath city... in fact, I believe you might have heard of him?'

I feel my stomach flip uncomfortably. 'Lorias?' I repeat, realising with a growing dread exactly what Astrid is asking of me. _She wants me to kill the Guild's contact, the one_ _Rune went to speak with last week, the man_ _Brynjolf and Delvin said we needed to keep on our side._

Astrid clearly not only registers but expects my reaction. 'Didn't you say the Thieves Guild had fallen into ruin and you were done with them?' she reminds me lightly, inclining her head as she swings her leg gently. 'Surely you don't owe those gold-grabbing fools anything now, do you? Not if you're a fledgling member of the Dark Brotherhood and owe your allegiance to me, of course.'

My heart hardens at her words, crushing my thoughts of the Cistern and the Ragged Flagon, of the only place that almost felt like home. _And_ _I can't_ _think_ _about any of the people I left behind there._ 'No,' I say shortly. 'I don't owe them anything. I will kill Lorias.' I fold my arms across my body, feeling Sapphire's gaze twice as heavily with my words. 'And what about the fifth life I have to take?'

The blonde assassin smirks. 'So eager,' she says. 'All in good time, sweet thing. I'll give you your next contract after you deal with Lorias. And I think you should attend to it sooner rather than later, don't you?' She does not wait for me to agree, as she turns to the Nord. 'Arnbjorn, show them the way out,' she says to him before she glances back at me. 'One last thing you should know, Wren... I don't appreciate surprises.' Her voice drops lower and I see the threat flashing in her blue eyes. 'I suggest you remember that, if you plan on not disappointing me in the future.'

 _Then I'm going to disappoint her when I bury my blade in her heart,_ I think with satisfaction as I nod silently, hearing her dismissal and yet not wanting to heed it. _I should try to kill her now while I have the chance,_ I think, still barely believing that I have found her and believing even less that I am about to walk away with the intent of killing someone other than her. _But I have waited this long already,_ I remind myself, glancing at the yellow-eyed Nord as he stands beside Astrid, unable to deny that to strike now would only end in my death, not hers. _If I'm going to kill her and survive too, I must be patient and do what she asks._

The Nord steps forward to stand in front of me, my heart fluttering nervously as I am faced with the height and breadth of his muscular body. _He's more bear than man,_ I think as I look up at him, my head barely reaching his chest, suddenly feeling twice as resolved to wait until the opportune moment when I can get Astrid alone. _He didn't leave her side even when she ordered him to, but there must be a time when he won't be protecting her._

'That way,' he says roughly, jerking his head behind me and Sapphire to the passageway beyond the fallen velvet curtain. 'Soft little birds first.'

Not inclined to argue and with one last look at Astrid, I turn around and start to walk back the way we came, doing my best to ignore my unease at leaving my back unguarded to the hulking Nord. I hear Sapphire follow swiftly behind me, although I do not turn back to look at her, suddenly reluctant to see her expression and discover how she has reacted to my conversation with Astrid. _I've murdered, and I'm going to murder again, to the detriment of the Guild,_ I think as I step over the pool of red velvet and walk along the passageway, wondering if the raven-haired thief will think less of me after what she has heard me confess and what I have agreed to do. _And I know Astrid was right. Sapphire has killed, but I know she would rather not do it again._

I push the thought from my mind and a minute later I stop at the dead end at the top of the steep flight of steps, seeing no evidence of the door that Cicero opened in the rocky face of the hill. As Sapphire comes to stand beside me, her expression closed off and her jaw set hard, the Nord pushes past both of us to the stone wall. He runs one large hand over the surface before he leans his substantial weight forward, the stone giving way easily and opening to reveal the clearing beyond, the trees and pool bathed in the shadows of night and a hazy rain falling.

'The Sanctuary is barred to the uninitiated,' the Nord tells us as I step outside with Sapphire close behind me. 'Good for keeping enemies out... and keeping playthings from escaping,' he adds, and I turn around to see his eyes flickering over Sapphire before he glances back at me, his hungry smile visible through the darkness. 'Wait out here for one of us to find you when you come back. _If_ you come back.'

'I'll come back,' I say bluntly, forcing my face to show no fear as I stare back up at him.

The Nord only barks a harsh laugh in response before he steps back and pulls the door closed behind him, the sound of scraping stone raising the hairs on the back of my neck as keenly as the sound of his rough laughter. In the silence that follows, I stand staring at the stone, the surface smooth and unremarkable once more, hardly believing that Astrid and the Dark Brotherhood are really hidden deep beneath the stone. _Maybe I dreamed everything that just happened._

I hear the jingle of a bridle and I turn sharply to find Sapphire has vanished from my side; as I scan the clearing through the darkness, my gaze lands upon her shadowy figure in the dark mists between the trees, where both our horses have taken shelter from the rain.

'Are you all right?' I ask the thief, my voice sounding strange to my ears.

Sapphire does not seem to hear me as she leads the horses back to middle of the clearing. 'I'm surprised the horses didn't wander off,' she says eventually as she hands the reins of my horse to me.

'I guess they didn't want to go back to the Twilight Sepulcher either,' I reply, trying to make my voice light, but Sapphire does not smile or joke in return.

'Well, at least we're riding through the dark rather than walking,' she mutters as she tries to adjust her horse's saddle and promptly curses under her breath. 'I can hardly see anything.'

'It's night-time, Saph, at least you have a valid excuse for not seeing anything,' I remind her teasingly, still trying to pretend like what happened in the Sanctuary was indeed a dream. 'I'm a Nightingale now and I'm sure I'm supposed to be able to see in the dark, or at least command the shadows to show me the way or something.' I let go of my horse's reins and raise my hands, the warm glow of the healing spell rising easily from my palms and illuminating the space between us. 'This'll have to do until Nocturnal thinks me worthy of her gifts.'

Sapphire makes a non-committal sound in her throat as she adjusts the horse's saddle in the light of my spell. 'Where to, then?' she asks.

I hesitate, wishing I didn't have to say it aloud. 'Falkreath city,' I say brightly. 'I think we've finally earned a night in a tavern, don't you?'

'Gravesend tavern, I suppose?' Sapphire's voice is carefully devoid of emotion and she does not meet my gaze. 'You're really going to kill him, then?'

'I have to,' I reply swiftly. 'I'm never going to be able to join the Dark Brotherhood unless I play Astrid's game. And anyway, Delvin said Lorias was a vicious rat, and Rune said much the same after he delivered the Guild's message last week, didn't he? He obviously deserves it. I know losing one of their contacts might hurt the Guild, but it's not like I'd be killing anyone they'll miss, would I?'

Sapphire does not answer my questions or respond to my attempts at convincing her, as she mounts her horse silently and settles in the saddle, pulling her hood securely over her head before she looks down at me. 'Shall we go, then?' she says. 'We should make it to the city a few hours before dawn.'

I stay on the ground, the spell dying from my hands and plunging us back into darkness as I clutch at the reins of my horse and look up at Sapphire. 'Will you tell them?' I ask, not needing to explain who I mean. _If I ever see anyone from the Guild again, I don't want them to resent me for what I am going to do._

The thief looks back down at me wordlessly for a few seconds longer, although I cannot read her blank expression through the darkness. _And I can't tell if she already resents me for what I intend to do._ 'No,' Sapphire says finally. 'I won't tell them. Can we get out of this rain now?'

Without another word, she jerks the reins to guide her horse to the path leading out of the clearing and nudges the creature forward. I quickly mount my horse too, the action more difficult than I anticipate as I struggle to draw energy from my tired and shaking legs; although I feel some relief once I have settled in the saddle, my body feels inexplicably heavy as I urge my horse to follow behind Sapphire, and we ride in silence away from the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary, the strange stillness lingering inside my heart long after we have left the clearing behind.

 

 *

 

Unlike Riften, the city of Falkreath is quiet and still in the small hours of the night. After we stable our horses at the city gates, Sapphire leads me through the largely deserted streets, the pair of us shivering in the chilly rain and our feet slipping on the wet cobbles. Few torches light the way through the shadows and the mists that hang in the narrow streets, and the silence seems to pervade even the walls of the dark wooden buildings. _Either the city is sleeping or dead,_ I think, keeping my hand on my dagger as we walk, although I start to find the cold silence almost as comforting as I found the clearing outside the Sanctuary.

I follow Sapphire's lead as we take several winding alleys away from the main street, trusting that her forays to the city with Rune over the last week have given her some sense of direction. When I start to hear the low murmurings and familiar sounds of a tavern, I slow my step and force my breathing to do the same. _At least Lorias probably won't have a personal guard quite like Astrid's,_ I think as we round a corner and I see a large wooden building at the end of the street, my eyes slipping past the few drunken patrons lingering near the doors and my gaze settling instead on what lies beyond the tavern, the strange pale shapes jutting through the shadows confusing me until I get closer and I realise what they are. _And there's a graveyard right there waiting for Lorias when I'm done with him._

'Rune met him in here,' Sapphire says, mercifully jolting me from my thoughts as we approach the Gravesend, and in the flickering torchlight illuminating the tavern's entrance, I suddenly realise how tired she looks. 'I'll point him out to you when I see him.'

 _If it weren't for me, she'd be safe and comfortable at the Guild, not wandering through the_ _cold damp_ _night_ _while_ _I carry out a murder,_ I think, my heart aching harder than I think I can bear, my own exhaustion heightening the abrupt sense of despair and regret. 'Let's get a room and food first,' I say, forcing my voice to sound bright even as inexplicably I feel myself fighting back sudden tears. 'It'd be impolite to go to a tavern and not buy at least one drink, don't you think?'

The sight of the small brief smile playing across her mouth lifts my mood marginally, although I still see the weariness written on her face as surely as it is written on mine. 'That's the smartest thing I've heard in about two weeks,' she answers.

'Then let's go,' I say briskly, before I step forward and push open the doors into the tavern.

Overwhelmed for a moment by the hum and throng of the patrons within, I hesitate just inside the doorway of the tavern, the establishment undeniably quieter than the average Riften inn but still daunting to my desensitised body. _I've spent more time in temples than taverns lately,_ I think, my cheeks flushing with the heat of the fire and the warmth from the crowd of bodies, the noise and clamour washing over me as I start to work my way to the bar, Sapphire close at my heels. With the stolen coin gleaned from her excursions to the city coupled with what I managed to scrounge from the villages we passed on the way to the Sepulcher, we pay for a room and food, and it's not long before we are settled at a table in a secluded corner of the tavern with two bowls of hot stew in front of us and a cup of wine apiece.

I draw my tired legs up beneath my body and sit cross-legged on my chair as we eat in silence, Sapphire devouring her meal in a few short minutes while my nerves quickly chase away much of my appetite. _My fingers will soon touch dying flesh as I stand in a warm pool of blood, the last damn thing I want to do now is eat meat stew,_ I think before I shudder involuntarily and push the bowl across the table to Sapphire, nausea suddenly rising in my stomach.

'Please eat it,' I say before Sapphire can question me. 'I really don't want it.'

The thief raises an eyebrow, and while she does not argue, she does not touch my food either, returning to her wine wordlessly. Knowing how futile it would be to insist otherwise, I sip slowly at my own drink, conscious of Sapphire's continued silence and reluctance to talk about what transpired in the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary, although I register well enough the prickling tension radiating from her. _But surely she knows I was only saying what Astrid needed to hear,_ I think, wondering if Sapphire truly believes that I am not only willing but eager to bind myself to the Dark Brotherhood, that I voluntarily chose this path, that I want more blood on my hands. _But when I said I enjoyed what I did, I sounded so convincing I almost believed it myself._

'Do you see him anywhere?' I ask Sapphire eventually, unable to bear sitting here any longer, wanting her to simply point out Lorias to me and leave me to my task alone, not wanting to let my mind wander further and realise that some part of me is more than willing to undertake Astrid's demand. _The blood already staining my hands is evidence enough of how far I will go to bring Astrid to her knees._

Sapphire glances around the tavern almost carelessly at my words. 'No, Wren,' she says, bringing her cup to her lips and downing the last of her wine. 'I'll tell you when I do.'

I blink at the abruptness in her tone, unease flickering inside me. 'I know you don't exactly agree with-' I start tentatively.

'This is your decision,' Sapphire interrupts, her tone grim. 'I'm never going to stand in your way of your revenge, you know that. It's just...' Her words tail off, and she shakes her head, her lips a hard silent line.

'Just... what?' I say, an edge rising in my voice as I suddenly feel the need to defend my decision. 'You really care about some Guild contact that much? Saph, you know I have to get close to Astrid, and this is the only way to do it without getting ourselves killed in the process. You were there. You know we would've been slaughtered before I had even drawn my dagger.'

Her eyes darken and she lowers her voice. 'So you're just going to do what she wants?' she says. 'You're going to take five lives just because she told you to?'

'I've already taken three lives because she told me to, what's two more?' I say only half-flippantly, part of me genuinely confused as to why Sapphire does not seem to see it that way. _I've come this far._ _I_ _f I turn back now, the blood on my hands would have been for nothing._

Sapphire's expression hardens at my words. 'And if she changes her mind and decides it's ten lives? Twenty? What if you have to lay a hundred corpses at her feet before she trusts you and you can get close to her?'

Nauseous nerves twist my stomach when I realise that perhaps the thief's support only goes so far. _And I know I can't blame her for that._ 'You just said you wouldn't stand in the way of my revenge,' I say. 'Are you about to tell me that it's not worth it? That I should just give up now and forget about her and what she did?'

'Of course not,' she snaps. 'I'm just wondering if you even realise what you're getting yourself into, Wren.'

'I know exactly what I'm getting myself into,' I say, my own tone matching hers. 'And I thought you did too. Look, I told you to not come with me. I didn't _want_ you to come with me. So just tell me when you see Lorias and then go back to the Guild or the Sepulcher. I'll do this alone, all right?'

Anger flashes in her hazel eyes. 'All right, go ahead and kill whoever you want, including yourself,' she says sarcastically. 'I just wonder, how close do you have to come to death before you finally stop running up to it so blindly and thinking you'll come out unscathed?' Sapphire rises to her feet and picks up her empty cup with more force than necessary. 'And how many parents are you willing to murder in exchange for avenging your own?'

I stare at her, my words failing in my throat, and I can only watch stunned and silent as the raven-haired thief turns away from our table, muttering that she needs another drink before she walks towards the bar, quickly disappearing amidst the clamour of bodies as a group of newcomers enter the tavern.

I curl my hands tightly around my cup and look down at the half-drunk wine within, the sickness rising harder in my stomach as my heart seems to beat faster than normal. _She's right, I am doing exactly what Astrid did to me,_ I think, wondering if Eravyn had a family I never saw, if anyone searched for the blindfolded prisoner after I left her body to rot in the shack, if Nelia was missed by those who might have loved her. _But_ _I can't think about that,_ I tell myself firmly, my breathing suddenly feeling trapped in my chest. _If I_ _falter_ _now, it will have all been for nothing, their deaths would have been for nothing, and if that's true, then I'd rather Karliah had left me to bleed out in Snow Veil Sanctum._

I bring the cup to my lips and take a deep sip, but the taste curls my tongue and nausea sweeps through me as quickly as the regret and the fear over what I have done and what I must do next, and suddenly I hear someone whisper words inside my head, the voice more familiar to me than my own. _You're just a scared little girl playing in worlds too big and dark for her,_ Mercer murmurs in my mind, his dark eyes surveying my naked body mockingly after the first time he touched me, the first time he fucked me, the first time I begged. _He was right,_ I think, feeling a painful twinge in the scar at my lower navel, remembering how he marked me, realising how he has scarred me as deeply as Astrid. _Gods, I can't let him be right._

Before I have comprehended what I am doing, my hand slips down beneath the table and I pull out the small ruby from my pocket, turning the gem between my fingers as I let my mind wander freely to Brynjolf for the first time since leaving the Guild, since leaving his bed, since leaving him, suddenly and desperately wanting to be distracted and to lose myself to the memory of his touch and his mouth and his body against mine. _But I can hardly remember it now,_ I think, my fingertips grazing the flawed surface of the gem, trying to recall how the thief's skin felt, how my own skin felt beneath his kiss, and yet my thoughts of the redhead seem to blur and slip through my mind, the memory of our precious few hours together lost to me now. _I remember Mercer better and I remember pain better, for both have brought me here,_ _whereas_ _Brynjolf_ _almost_ _succeeded in keeping me safe and_ _oblivious from it all_ _._

I jump when Sapphire appears at the table once again, her own cup refilled with wine and a cup of water in her other hand. As she takes her seat, I quickly slip the ruby back into my pocket and clutch my own drink, although the mere thought of wine turns my stomach. I risk a glance at Sapphire and find her hazel eyes troubled, although thankfully no longer heated with anger; as she meets my gaze, she places the cup of water in front of me, and whatever anger might have lingered inside me vanishes too, my heart touched by her consideration.

'Thank you,' I say as I reach for the cup and take a few sips, the water slightly warm and yet settling my stomach far better than the wine.

'I'm no assassin but drinking on the job seems pretty stupid,' Sapphire says, and when I look back at her, I see a small smile at her mouth.

'Then maybe this life really isn't for me,' I joke back.

Sapphire's smile fades as we look at each other. 'I'm sorry, Wren,' she says quietly. 'I didn't mean for what I said to come out like that.'

'I know,' I say. 'And I'm sorry too. I know you're only trying to help, and I don't blame you for having reservations. I wish you hadn't been dragged into all this, Saph.'

'I think I dragged myself into it,' she says wearily. 'Look, I'm with you no matter what, all right? Just promise me you'll be careful. Promise me you'll keep your eyes open.' When I nod, the thief sighs deeply. 'And I wish you could promise me that we would never have to go back to the Sanctuary again, too. That place was... creepy.'

She makes a small shudder before she takes a swig of her wine, and in that moment I realise how young she looks. _She's only a few years older than me,_ I remember, studying her, my heart breaking at the recent shadows staining the unwrinkled skin beneath her eyes and the tired frown pulling at her otherwise lineless brow. _And yet she doesn't seem to make half as many stupid mistakes._

'I feel the same,' I answer her, ignoring the small twisted part of me that found the Sanctuary clearing both beautiful and strangely comforting. 'Maybe Lorias is away from Falkreath,' I add, somehow knowing that that is not the case and that my next contract will be upon me sooner rather than later. 'I can't promise anything, but who knows, we might not have to go back there for a long time.'

Sapphire's smile is more like a grimace, and she seems to share my thoughts. 'Let's just make the most of being somewhere warm and relatively safe while we can,' she mutters darkly before she brings her cup to her lips and takes a deep drink.

We sit in silence for a few minutes and watch the tavern door as more newcomers enter and head to the bar, shaking the rain from their clothing and their cheeks soon glowing in the warmth from the fire. The night now deepening into the early hours, the tavern swells with patrons, and I soon let my eyes glaze over as I look around the large crowded room, forcing down my nerves and trying to empty my mind of what consumed it a few minutes ago. _Mercer was wrong about one thing,_ I think grimly. _I don't need_ _him to return_ _the Blade of Justice_ _to me. I will_ _kill Astrid_ _without it, and without him_ _._

'Do you miss him?' Sapphire says abruptly, startling me from my thoughts. At my confused look, she nods at my hand curled around my cup. 'The gem you were holding before. It's Brynjolf's, isn't it?'

I blink, caught off-guard. _She has spent more time with him than I ever did. Of course she knows what it is._ 'Did he once give it to you too?' I say lightly, trying not to feel the sudden flicker of jealousy in my stomach.

'No, I just saw it in his hand a few times,' Sapphire answers. 'Usually when he had a bottle of mead in the other and a livid expression on his face.' She pauses, evidently awkward, and I suddenly realise what she is going to say before the words even spill from her mouth. 'We never talked about him,' she says quickly. 'You know what's happened between us in the past and I know you stayed with him the night we left Riften. We should... talk about it, right?'

I feel my cheeks flush red with the thief's chosen topic of conversation. _I'd rather talk about Astrid and the Dark Brotherhood than about how we've shared Brynjolf._ 'We don't need to talk about it,' I say hurriedly, carelessly, trying to fight back my awkward blush. 'What happened between me and Brynjolf was just... just that one night. Not even a night, really, just...'

My words tail off lamely as I struggle to explain exactly what happened between us and what it meant to me, and Sapphire waits a few moments before she evidently realises that I seem incapable of finishing my sentence. 'For what it's worth, I told Karliah she should let you have time,' she mutters, her gaze flickering down to her cup. 'We could've stayed in Riften longer if you wanted.'

'It's fine,' I say quickly. 'Really, it was nothing, I know it didn't mean anything more than that one night.'

Sapphire looks up with one eyebrow raised. 'Well, maybe you should tell Brynjolf that,' she says, her tone sarcastic. 'You'd have to be blind not to see the way he looks at you.'

Despite everything, I cannot help but laugh. 'He looks at every woman the same way,' I say, having known since my first few weeks at the Guild that the auburn-haired thief's charming smiles and words were not reserved for me alone and I would be a fool to think otherwise. 'It doesn't mean much, Saph.'

'I've known him for five years,' Sapphire says, her voice slightly edged. 'I've seen him look at a lot of women, Wren, and he looks at you differently.' A small frown forms at her brow. 'Or... more. I don't know, but it's different. Trust me.'

I stare at her, not wanting to let myself believe her words and yet remembering the way Brynjolf had touched my hair as if it were the most precious thing in the world. _But Mercer touched my hair too and it was all a game,_ I think, knowing that I was right to leave Riften when I did and that I could not trust Brynjolf to truly care for me beyond what I could offer him in his bed. _I cannot trust anyone, least of all any man who has seen me fall apart at his touch and pleading for more._

'And for what it's worth, I'm not going to stand in your way,' Sapphire adds before I can think of something to say in reply.

'I'm not asking you to,' I say swiftly. 'And there's nothing to stand in the way of, anyway, and even if there was, I wouldn't..' I falter, not sure what to say as a sharp pang of jealousy cuts through my stomach, half-wanting to tell Sapphire that I would step aside myself if she wanted Brynjolf and half-wanting to admit to her how much it hurt when I overheard them together. 'Like I said, it was just one night,' I say finally. 'You've... you've known him for years.'

'I don't have any claims on him, nor does Brynjolf have any on me,' Sapphire says firmly. 'Look, it was never like that. It was...'

Suddenly it is the thief's turn to falter, and she turns her gaze downward, staring into her wine with a small pained frown at her brow, the seconds passing in silence as she evidently hesitates over what she intends to say next.

'I didn't go near anyone for three years after what happened to me,' she says eventually, her voice quiet and barely audible over the hum of the tavern. 'I didn't want to. By the time I ended up in Riften, I still didn't want to, but I thought I had at least put what had happened in the past. Then after I'd been with the Guild a few months, I almost got caught on a job. Three guards chased me through half of Riften trying to catch me, and I still remember it, the rain, the darkness, the way my heart pounded as I ran and the way it seemed to stop every time I nearly tripped over. It made me...' Her words tail off and a frown furrows her brow as she stares into her cup, not meeting my eyes. 'It made me feel like the bandits were hunting me as I tried to flee,' she murmurs. 'When I made it back to the Cistern and ran straight into Brynjolf, I was exhausted and shaking and scared like a fucking child, and all I wanted in that moment was to prove that what the bandits had done wouldn't affect every part of my life, that they wouldn't haunt me if I ran down the street or chose to... to be close to someone.' Sapphire closes her eyes for a moment, a brief bitter smile forming at her lips. 'I wanted to prove to myself that I was stronger than them. That I _was_ strong.'

My fingers curl tighter around my drink as my heart aches sharply for her, wishing I could reach out and take her hand, wishing I could say something, but knowing that to do so would startle her from her memories and that any words I could say would fall desperately short.

A moment later, however, Sapphire seems to pull herself from her thoughts without my interruption, her expression hardening and some of the pain lessening in her eyes, although she still does not look up to meet my gaze. 'So I fucked him, and that magically made everything better,' she says sarcastically, brashly, although I hear the pain still lingering in her voice. 'It didn't make me stronger, but I guess it served some purpose. Being with him proved I could still feel in a way I hadn't in a long time, in a way I thought the bandits had stolen from me forever. He made me feel good.'

Her cheeks flush a faint rosy pink and she brings her cup to her lips swiftly. I stay silent as she drinks, my heart still hurting for her with her retold memories and no longer feeling the flicker of bitter jealousy at my own memory of overhearing the two thieves in bed together. _If he made her feel good after what she suffered, I can't resent either of them for that._

Sapphire places her cup back on the table and she looks up to meet my gaze at last. 'I went back to him after that night,' she says. 'More times than I knew I should.' I see a small sad smile flicker across her face. 'So I'm clearly not as strong as you think, Wren.'

'You are,' I tell her quietly, not knowing what else to say. 'You learnt to be close to someone after what happened to you. That's not weakness, Saph.'

'No, I learnt to depend on someone else to fool me into feeling stronger,' she corrects me, a touch of sarcasm back in her voice. 'I'd gone to Brynjolf looking to claim some shred of strength for my own, not to owe it to someone else. But there I was, knocking on Brynjolf's door every time I felt afraid, like I really believed it could magically heal the past. But I soon realised I couldn't heal it, not like that. I just had to... live with it. Learn from it. Do everything in my power to not let it happen again. In the end, it was just the past, the bandits were dead, it was over, and it was my choice how I let a memory define the rest of my life.' Sapphire shakes her head suddenly, her voice turning brisker and her brow furrowing as she looks at me squarely. 'Look, the point of this was to say that Brynjolf and I were never anything serious, Wren. After I realised I couldn't run from the past or rely on someone to heal it for me, I stopped seeking him out. And Brynjolf never brought it up again, let alone tried to proposition me. We both knew it wasn't what we wanted. Brynjolf... well, he wants something that I can't give him.'

'What?' I ask warily, not sure I will be happy to hear the answer.

'He wants to be needed, and I don't need him, or his protection,' Sapphire says. 'He wants to save people, and I didn't want to be saved. I wanted to save myself.'

I stare at her silently for a moment, my stomach twisting uncomfortably at her words, wondering if she is trying to make a point. 'I don't want or need his protection,' I say, although part of me doubts myself, remembering how safe and at peace I felt in Brynjolf's arms, how tempted I was to stay in his bed, and suddenly I realise how weak and pathetic I must appear to Sapphire, _in comparison_ to Sapphire. 'If I did, I'd still be in Riften waiting for him to find Astrid for me and cut her throat himself.'

Sapphire's eyes flash with regret at my words. 'I didn't mean it like that,' she says quickly. 'I just-' The thief stops abruptly and her voice softens as she holds my gaze for a moment. 'It's all right to want to be protected, you know? To have someone watching your back and taking care of you. You deserve it, after... after everything.'

'So do you,' I point out, not wanting to think of Honorhall, not wanting to compare our past pains and determine which of us is more deserving of pleasure and safety now. _Besides, I know what I deserve,_ I think, recalling Mercer's lessons vividly and knowing he was right when he said I would never forget. _And Astrid taught me how useless it was to try to change it._

Before Sapphire can reply, a roar of laughter and a clatter of glasses startle both of us from our conversation; as I look over at the bar, I see a crowd of men gathered at the far end, tankards in their hands and their voices carrying loudly above the hum of the tavern.

'And the Jarl's wife goes, her mouth still dripping,' one man says, before he puts on a high-pitched voice. _'Please, m'lord, can't I have some more?'_

'Fuck off,' another says as the others laugh raucously. 'The Jarl's wife wouldn't look twice at a sorry bastard like you.'

'She did more than look,' the first man says proudly. 'I only went for a quick tumble, but before I knew it, the lass hopped up on my lap and fucked herself senseless on my cock. Says her husband ain't giving it to her and she needs a real man to please her.'

'That doesn't mean she'd rather take your little cock than her own fingers,' another says with a laugh, shaking his hooded head as the others snort in derision.

'I'm telling the truth,' the first man insists. 'And there ain't nothing _little_ about it, by the way. I'd say check the bed sheets, but most of it went in her mouth or her cunt, the lass just couldn't get enough of me.'

Sapphire turns back to me and I look away from the men too, and as our eyes meet, I am startled by the keen regret suddenly darkening her expression.

'That's him,' she murmurs, the words quiet and reluctant. 'Lorias is the one in the green hood.'

My gaze snaps back to the crowd of men, my eyes drawn to a stocky Imperial in a faded green jacket, the hood pulled up over his head as he laughs at the banter. From the other side of the tavern, I can see little of his features, though I catch sight of the steel dagger fastened at his hip.

I turn back to Sapphire, suddenly finding myself glad that the men's lewd banter interrupted our conversation so forcefully. _And I know I don't need anyone to hold my hand or try to protect me from what I have to do now._ 'You should get some sleep,' I tell the thief, my resolve set and my voice level. 'We've paid for a room, so make the most of it while we've got it, all right? I'll come find you later.'

Sapphire's hazel eyes remain darkened as she looks at me silently for a moment, although I find I cannot read her almost distant expression. 'I can help you,' she says, the quiet offer behind her words almost making me think twice about my decision.

_Almost, but I know I don't want her to ever feel like she did in the past, and if she helps me, I can't guarantee she won't get hurt._

'I know,' I say softly. 'But it's better that I do this alone, and I'd rather they didn't see you with me. Please, Saph,' I add before she can open her mouth to argue. 'Trust me. I'm doing this alone. Go to our room and get some sleep, all right? I'll be fine.'

Sapphire holds my gaze, and for a few seconds I think she is going to argue, until she abruptly nods her head once in consent, although the look on her face is one of resignation rather than approval. Nevertheless, I breathe a sigh of relief, wanting to keep Sapphire away from what will happen and knowing that I have a stronger chance of getting Lorias' guard down if I approach him by myself. _Alone, I'm small and weak and no threat whatsoever. Sapphire is different._

I reach over to the chair beside and open my satchel, my fingers landing upon the ebonwraith dagger that Karliah gave to me in the Sepulcher; my hands are tentative as I withdraw Nightclaw from the folds of my clothes, once again caught off-guard by the lightness of the dagger and yet feeling a different sort of weight to the blade. _I will use this to_ _help Karliah_ _kill Mercer_ _and restore the Nightingales_ _,_ I think as my fingers brush gently over the handle of the dagger, the noise of the tavern and the men's ribald laughter seeming to fade for a moment as I touch Nightclaw, and all I can hear is my own heart beat thudding in my ears. _But first it will taste blood for my own purposes,_ _for my revenge and my justice_ _._

I grip the dagger and leave my satchel on the chair as I stand up. 'Go to our room and take that with you,' I say to Sapphire, nodding at my satchel as I fasten Nightclaw to my thigh, the blade feeling chilly against my body even through my trousers. 'I'll come find you when... when this is over.'

Before I can register the look on the thief's face or let her try to convince me otherwise, I turn away and walk across the tavern in the direction of the bar and the group of laughing men, barely noticing the tiredness in my legs and my heart surprisingly steady as I head towards the man I intend to kill. _Getting him alone will be the easy part,_ I think, although I realise that I will likely not be able to take advantage of Lorias' charitable nature as I did with Eravyn. _But_ _I'm sure I can think of a way of persuading_ _him_ _to take me somewhere alone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincerest thanks to my lovely readers and thank you for the messages I received on the last chapter. I don't know what I did to deserve your kindness but I appreciate it very much <3
> 
> I hope this chapter doesn't seem like it ends too abruptly. Last night I was writing the next scene (with the intention of including it here... with about three other scenes afterwards...) when I realised that I was mushing two monster chapters together to make one mega monster chapter for no reason! My excuse was that I was having too much fun writing Lorias (with Mercer gone, I have to shoehorn in a terrible degrading man somewhere!) So I ended this chapter on a bit of an abrupt note else it would be another week before I posted an update.
> 
> PS. I didn't include it because I realised there's no logical way Astrid could know which random racist man in Windhelm Wren killed, but I like to think that the Brotherhood had multiple contracts for Rolff Stone-Fuckface and Wren has indeed unknowingly sent him to the void with Sithis' approval :)
> 
> PPS. When I wrote in my last end notes about how I am feeling, it broke my heart to hear that a lot of you relate and are struggling in the same way. I am useless with social things but I don't want anyone to ever feel alone like I do, so I just wanted to say that my email is always open at theflightyzeus [at] outlook [dot] com. If you get the reference, we are the best of friends already and I love you more than pocket cups <3


	27. A Kiss, Sweet Mother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three chapters' worth of story here for you, to apologise for my absence. Really I should've just done this in three separate updates, but never mind. Take your time, it's just over 22k (and sadly there is no Brynjolf smut as an excuse for this ridiculous length). As per usual, I am sorry for any errors or unreadable sentences - also, as you might have noticed in past updates, AO3 likes to mess with my formatting and puts random spaces between italicised words sometimes. If it has done it here, I'm sorry, I'll eventually fix it when I have the time, along with any other errors of my own making. For now, going forward with Birdsong, thorough editing is out the window. I don't have it in me right now. Hopefully you don't mind.  
> Thank you for your patience and understanding. You are incredible people, you know? <3

I take a slow deep breath as I approach the five men at the bar, my eyes fixed on the Imperial in the centre of the group and tasting the strong scent of ale and mead on the air before I even reach them. _I stole from a drunk Nord man the night I killed Grelod,_ I think, suddenly recalling the touch of his hands and his tongue in my mouth before I force the thought from my mind as I get closer to Lorias and his friends. _I'm not here to pickpocket him, but maybe I can at least get him alone under the same pretence._

'Excuse me,' I say, stopping a few feet away.

At the sound of a female voice, the men turn around to look at me more eagerly than I expected and I almost flinch, feeling dwarfed by their bodies, the men's gazes hot and heavy as they look me up and down without restraint; under the weight of their open appraisal of my breasts and hips, I suddenly realise I should not play the same game that I did with the fair-haired Nord in the Bee and Barb. _If I tell them I want to fuck them or that I'm a whore, I doubt I'll even get the chance to draw my daggers before they take what I've seemingly offered._

Two of the men whistle in appreciation at the sight of me but it is the stocky Imperial in the green hood who speaks first.

'Would you look at that?' Lorias says, tilting his head as he eyes me suggestively; from the shadows beneath his hood, his small and pointed features seem almost rat-like, and his piercing pale blue eyes narrow with his smirk of satisfaction as he takes in the shape of my body. 'Nice. Turn around, girl, let's see where I'll be fucking you later.'

The men laugh and I feel a sickening lurch in my stomach before I force an easy smile on my lips.

'If you're lucky,' I say, not taking my eyes from the Imperial. _If not with my body, I'll have to lure him with something else, something that all thieves want._ 'Lorias, isn't it?'

His gaze flickers up from my body, his eyes narrowing further with suspicion as he studies my face. 'Who's asking?' he says bluntly.

'Someone who'd like to talk business with you, if you have the time,' I say, making my voice softer. 'Alone, that is,' I add, pointedly ignoring the gazes of the other men.

They seem not to appreciate my lack of interest. 'Hey, sweetheart, let me tell you how I seduced the Jarl's wife and had her hanging off my cock all night,' one says, his loud grating voice already familiar. 'That could be you next.'

'The lass wants to talk _business,'_ another interrupts, grinning with pointed teeth. 'That means you're going to have to pay for her to even touch your cock.'

'I'm not a whore,' I say, before I make another smile at Lorias. 'But if that's what it'll take to get your help, maybe I'll consider... sweetening the deal for you.'

'And what deal would that be?' Lorias says before the others can comment, his brow lowering. 'Just what business are we talking here, girl?'

'The gold shiny kind,' I say innocently, trying to think of something convincing fast and surprisingly myself when my mind offers a story. 'Look, someone I know has come into an inheritance and I want to claim it for myself,' I tell him, before I weaken my voice and bite my lip. 'But I can't do it alone. I'm no mastermind or master thief. I've heard you're the man I need, and if you help me, I'll share the profits with you.'

The Imperial's pale eyes survey my body once more, a small knowing smile slowly forming at his mouth. 'You know, there's a quicker way than stealing for a girl like you to make coin,' he says. 'Especially if she shares herself rather than the profits. And I think my friends here would pay handsomely to have a piece of such a pretty thing like you.'

I force myself not to react as the men laugh again. 'And I think you'd rather keep the gold and women to yourself,' I say to Lorias. 'If that's what your help will cost me, then I'm offering you both. The rewards are worth it. So...' I tail off expectantly, a coy smile on my lips as I gesture away from the bar. 'Shall we discuss this in private?'

'Look, if you're not a whore, maybe you should fuck off now,' one of the men says derisively before Lorias can reply. 'We're not going to help some little bitch steal a few coins.'

'Aye, if her business isn't anything to do with spreading her legs, she'll be a waste of your time,' another says to the Imperial, who laughs a rough laugh in response.

'Take it easy, lads,' Lorias says, downing the last of his ale before shoving his tankard in the hands of the man beside him. 'I think I can spare a few minutes of my time to help the poor girl with her little scheme.' The Imperial steps forward to stand close enough that I taste the ale on the air he breathes, and I hold my ground as he looks me over deliberately. 'I've a room just down the hall,' he says, the knowing smirk widening at his mouth before he gestures behind me. 'Ladies first.'

Barely believing that it was so easy to get him to break away from the others, I turn around, although I have barely taken two steps before I hear one of the men whistle again.

'And there's where I'll be fucking her, lads,' Lorias says appreciatively as I feel their gazes on my body from behind. 'Don't wait up for me. Judging by that tight little ass, I'm in for a good night.'

I force myself to ignore the comments and laughter that erupt at the Imperial's remark, having heard far worse. _At least I'll get the satisfaction of doing to him what I could never do to Grelod's guests_ _and_ _Mercer Frey,_ I think, trying not to hurry or appear nervous as I head in the direction Lorias pointed, towards the hallway leading away from the main room. As I walk, I glance across the tavern and relief flashes through me when I find that the table where Sapphire and I were sitting is now empty. _Should I fail, Lorias will think I was working alone, and I'll suffer the consequences alone._

Still feeling the weight of the Imperial's gaze upon my body and confident that he is following me, I keep my gaze ahead as I navigate between the crowds and finally reach the other side of the tavern, finding myself standing in a shadowy hallway lined with half a dozen closed doors and lit only by the candlelight emanating from the main hall. At the end of the hall, I notice a spiral staircase leading up to the first floor, and I hesitate, unsure where to go, my hands suddenly feeling spare at my sides as I turn around and find Lorias right behind me.

'This way, sweetheart,' he says with another smirk as he steps past me, brushing purposefully close to my body. 'My room's just down here, then we can discuss... _business_ in private, can't we?'

I force a smile on my face and follow him down the hallway, flexing my fingers at my sides in readiness for what they must do and feeling a sudden flash of anger that I do not have the Blade of Justice for the task. _It feels wrong to use Nightclaw or Rune's silver dagger for this,_ I think, before I quickly push the thought from my mind and keep walking. _Think of Astrid,_ I tell myself as I follow Lorias to a closed door halfway down the hall. _I won't care what weapon I have to use to kill her, as long as I spill her blood at last._

Lorias stops outside the door and withdraws a key from his pocket, turning to give me another suggestive grin as he unlocks the door. 'After you, sweetheart,' he says, pushing the door open and holding it wide for me.

I step across the threshold into a small darkened room, the window shuttered and a dying fire burning low in the hearth, with little furnishings beyond a desk, a chair and a wide bed. _If I can get him lying there, or just get him close to me, I can bury my daggers in his chest,_ I think, but before I can say anything to Lorias, I hear the door slam shut behind me, making me jump. As I start to turn around, a hand grabs my left shoulder and I feel the tip of a blade pressing at the side of my back.

'So far for a Ratway whore to travel,' Lorias murmurs in my ear as I freeze in shock, my heart pounding, feeling his body press up against mine from behind as he grips my shoulder tightly to hold me in place. 'Be careful, girl,' he says harshly as I reach down instinctively to my daggers and I feel his own blade press harder below my ribs, making me gasp in fear and my hands drop meekly to my sides. 'Your little knives stay where they are, and I won't kill the Guild bitch until after she tells me what the fuck she's doing here, all right?'

'I... I'm...' I stammer, my mind suddenly going blank as I try to think of something to say.

'You... you're... what?' Lorias mimics, his fingers digging into my shoulder, his dagger moving to my waist. 'Not from the Guild? You're wearing their armour, you dumb bitch. Or did you think I was as blind as the rest of them? I knew what you were the second you walked over to me. I've worked with the Guild long enough to know the bastards when I see them, and all Ratway sluts have a scent about them. Every one of you is always dripping wet for gold.' He adjusts his hold on my body, his hand reaching down over my shoulder to grasp roughly at my breast as I feel him push his groin against my ass. 'Gold and cock, isn't it? Tell me what you're doing here and I might be good enough to fuck you before I rip your guts out through your ass.'

'Please-' I start, my body shuddering in fright and revulsion at the touch of his hand and the unyielding pressure of his body behind me.

 _'Please_ isn't an answer, sweetheart,' the Imperial says tauntingly, adjusting the hold on his dagger to nestle closer against my ribs. 'It seems half the Guild is out here checking up on me these days, and I don't fucking like being watched, especially not by little sluts who try to feed me bullshit to get me alone. So talk, bitch, before I-'

'I'm not here to watch you or anything like that,' I manage to say pleadingly, realising that I cannot deny my association with the Guild and trying desperately to think of a reason why I would be here on their orders. 'They only sent me to... to negotiate-'

'No, I don't think so,' Lorias interrupts. 'I already negotiated with the Guild. I told the pretty blue-eyed boy in his pretty Guild armour when he came to see me last week - so long as I get paid, I'll run whatever jobs they want. Whichever of you sewer rats sits behind the desk, it bothers me none, so long as they pay me what I'm due.' His voice drops and I feel his breath hot on my neck as his hand slides from my breast to the fastenings of my jacket, his fingers making quick work of the ties and buckles at my chest. 'And I told your boy this, so why would they send you along now, eh? Either the Guild's forgotten what I said or they didn't take my word for it the first time... and neither sounds so good, does it?' Before I can think of an answer, Lorias peels open my jacket at my chest and his hand slips beneath the material to grope at my breast again, the warm touch of his hand leaving my skin crawling even through my shirt and binding. 'Or they want me dead and they've sent a pretty girl to be the last thing I see,' he murmurs dangerously in my ear. 'So which is it, hm?'

I force myself not to struggle even as my body shudders again with his touch, terrified equally of the blade at my side and the hand at my breast, well aware that the Imperial is moments away from either pinning me down and fucking me or burying his blade in my body. _And I was meant to be the one doing that, and yet here I am, overpowered before I have even tried,_ I think in despair, knowing that he could slide the blade between my ribs far sooner than I could draw my daggers or try to free myself.

_No, I need him to free me and for him to no longer see me as a threat._

'Do you honestly think the Guild would send _me_ to kill _you?'_ I manage to say incredulously into the Imperial's suspicious silence, hoping that his arrogance will overcome his mistrust. 'They told me about you at the Guild. I know you wouldn't be so easy to kill. If I tried, I might as well just cut my own throat.'

Lorias makes a quiet laugh. 'Go ahead, that'd save me from doing it myself,' he says mildly, his hand leaving my breast and running up to my neck. 'And someone's already started the job for me. Who'd you piss off so badly to earn this, eh?' He strokes the scar across my throat, pressing his fingertips against the tender skin as his dagger nudges my ribs. 'Amateur work, too. If you'd crossed _me,_ sweetheart, you wouldn't be still standing.'

Ripples of pain course through me at the rough touch of his fingers on my bare scarred throat, my heart fluttering in fear with the unveiled threat in his words - and yet somewhere beneath the needling heat I feel sudden quiet sparks of fury jump inside my stomach, alight with the realisation that once again I have found myself held at knifepoint by a man who intends to kill me. _And it was only hours ago that I walked away from Astrid, when I failed and had to play her game to get what I want,_ I think, the events of the past few hours suddenly hitting me as I stand mute and helpless at Lorias' mercy, realising that I am still as weak as I was when Mercer cut my throat, when I had to walk away from Astrid without spilling her blood, when Grelod would push the night's guest into the room and I could do nothing to stop them. _No,_ I tell myself, feeling my heart twist painfully with my memories. _For once, this is going to end the way I want, no matter what I have to do._

I swallow my fear and force the tension in my muscles to relax. 'I swear, I'm not trying to cross you, Lorias,' I say, my voice softer, no longer struggling against the Imperial's hold. 'Look, the Guild only sent me to make sure you were... _happy_ with the new arrangement,' I lie, pointedly emphasising the word, realising suddenly that I should have played the whore from the start. _Since I'm apparently so convincing at it._ 'They told me to do anything to keep you on our side. I'm a... a gesture of good will, not a spy or assassin. I swear.'

Lorias makes a quiet laugh. 'A gesture of good will, eh?' he says, his tone mocking. 'And what sort of gesture did you have in mind, girl?' His hand drops down from my neck and he squeezes my breast hard, my breath catching with the discomfort at his ungentle touch. 'Does it involve bobbing your pretty head up and down while your lying little mouth sucks on my cock, hm?'

'If that's what you want,' I say, feeling my cheeks flush with his words, trying not to think about all the words that have been whispered in my ear before and how I have had no choice in whether they were enacted upon me. 'And I only lied to get you alone because I'm here for you, not your friends,' I add, pausing for a moment before I make a quiet sound of derision in my throat. 'Although, if you honestly think I'm here to kill you, then you're clearly twice as blind as them. Even if they were too stupid to realise that I was from the Guild, they at least figured out what I wanted from you.' I force myself to make a mocking laugh, hoping it will have the effect I want rather than enraging him. 'I wonder if you'd even know what to do with me if you took me.'

The Imperial laughs roughly and I feel the warmth of his breath as he brings his mouth closer to my ear again. 'Maybe the Guild did send you to me, after all,' he murmurs. 'I've always liked a tight ass and a sharp tongue.' His hand moves back down from my neck and his fingers hook into the ties of my shirt, the air raising goosebumps over my bare skin as Lorias peels the garment open to expose the tops of my breasts above my binding. 'But I thought you were supposed to be making me happy, sweetheart, not telling me I'm blind and stupid.'

'I could be making you happy right now you weren't holding a dagger to my ribs,' I say pointedly, trying to steady my uneasy breathing, nervous at the exposure of my skin and the presence of the blade still at my side, part of me wondering if I am doing the right thing by playing this game. _It's my best chance of surviving,_ I think, before suddenly I remember that yielding to a man was not always enough to ensure my survival in the past. _Mercer wanted to taste my fear, to know that I was weak, to hear me beg._ 'Although, if you like holding your women at knifepoint, I won't stop you,' I murmur to Lorias as I arch my back slightly, pushing my lower body against his groin and leaning forward into his hand at my breast, feeling the heat of his palm through my binding. 'I know you could take me however you want and I'd be a fool to try to fight you, anyway.'

Before Lorias can reply, I arch my back deeper and rock my hips, pressing my ass deliberately against the Imperial's cock. A quiet thrill of power flashes through me when I hear Lorias make a low sound of satisfaction in his throat with the contact, but before I can repeat the movement, I feel his blade tap tauntingly against my ribs and his hand grabs tightly my breast again, making me gasp with his roughness.

'So eager, even for a Ratway whore,' he comments, leaning closer and his lips brushing over my ear as I feel him push his groin against my ass, rubbing himself against my body. 'All right, girl, I suppose I might as well make use of the Guild's offer, since you're clearly so desperate for it... but you do know I'm going to kill you afterwards, don't you?' he adds casually, the pleasant tone of his voice catching me off-guard before I process his words and cold terror clamps my heart. 'I thought those bastards at the Guild would've told you, sweetheart - people don't lie to my face and get to live, no matter how nice an ass they've got or how eagerly they're going to suck on my cock.'

I take a quiet steadying breath and desperately try not to let my body betray my fear. _One of us isn't leaving this room alive,_ I think, trying to convince myself that this will end in my favour. 'Delvin told me as much,' I manage to say in reply, remembering what the old thief had said to Rune before we left the Guild. _He wouldn't like a lady to step near Lorias, but Mercer always said I was more whore than woman._ 'I was hoping I could persuade you otherwise, if I made you happy enough,' I continue softly. 'So does this make you happy? Having me rubbing up against you while you hold me at your mercy? Knowing I want you to fuck me even though you might kill me afterwards?'

I lean back against the Imperial's body and rock my hips again, grinding my ass against his groin, and a sudden sense of victory flickers inside me when I feel his cock start to stir and harden with my efforts and my words. As I repeat the movement, I dare to reach my hand up to my chest, my fingers clumsily loosening the remaining fastenings of my jacket and shirt and parting the material while my other hand moves imperceptibly towards Nightclaw at my thigh. _Get him hard, get him thinking of only one thing, distract him enough not to notice when I draw the blade._

'Do you want me bent over the bed or up against the wall?' I murmur, covering his hand at my breast with my own, hoping he cannot feel the nervous thudding of my heart as my other hand brushes over the hilt of the ebonwraith blade at my thigh. 'Or shall I use my mouth first?'

Lorias laughs softly in my ear before I feel his dagger disappear from my ribs and my heart rises sharply in relief when I hear him sheathe the blade behind me. 'First, I think we'll get rid of these, shall we?' he says, his hand at my breast slipping out from under mine before both his arms snake around my body and his hands move over my hips.

Realising what he means to do, I quickly drop my hand away from Nightclaw the moment before Lorias grabs my thighs and he draws both of my daggers in one quick motion. I freeze, already knowing the pain of having my own weapon used against me, but Lorias tosses my silver dagger onto the floor somewhere behind me before he flexes his fingers around Nightclaw's handle and I hear him make a hum of approval.

'Nice,' he murmurs, feeling the weight of the ebonwraith blade and evidently finding it to his satisfaction. 'Think I'll be keeping this one after we're done here. Now turn around, sweetheart. And how about we have a little more light so I can see that pretty face of yours, eh?'

He steps away from me and I turn around quickly, begging my eyes to adjust faster to the darkness as I watch Lorias' stocky figure move through the shadows towards the hearth, the ebonwraith blade still in his hand as he drops to his knees before the dying fire; his back turned as he uses Nightclaw to stoke the embers, I look away and scan the floor desperately to find where my silver dagger fell, my heart skipping fast with the opportunity that I know is going to slip through my fingers if I do not grasp it now. _And for being a Nightingale, I'm still as fucking useless as ever,_ I think in despair as the dull glow from the fire brightens too quickly, casting the room in an uneasy warm light just as my eyes finally catch a metallic silvery glint on the floor near the closed door.

For a brief moment, I stand perfectly still, staring at my dagger, fighting with my instincts as I try to decide whether to run for the blade or run to the door and abandon this game while I still can - but when Lorias straightens up from the fire a second later, leaving Nightclaw by the hearth as he turns back to look at me, he finds me standing before him empty-handed as I ease my arms free from my jacket sleeves. _I'll strike when his guard is down,_ I think, not letting myself consider how far I might have to play this game before I have him at a disadvantage. _I managed it with Eravyn. I can do this too._

As I shrug off my jacket and drop it to the floor, Lorias pushes back his hood and looks me up and down; in the glowing firelight and no longer shrouded by his hood, I realise the Imperial is older than I first thought, a rough grey stubble peppering his jaw and a heavily lined brow giving way to thinning hair, although his pale eyes are piercingly alert as he looks me up and down and I realise his short stocky frame could still overpower me effortlessly. _And h_ _e could still pin me down and take what I don't want to give._

Lorias smirks as he surveys me. 'Shame you're not half as smart as you are pretty,' he says, his gaze lingering on my breasts. 'Fancy yourself a Nightingale, eh? Gods, the Guild really is fucked if it lets its recruits believe such bullshit.'

My heart stutters with surprise until I follow the direction of Lorias' gaze and I remember what I am wearing around my neck. _He must recognise the symbol on the Nightingale amulet,_ I think, before I quickly force the thought from my mind, not wanting to think about what I have abandoned to be here. _Imagine Karliah's face if she saw what I was doing right now instead of helping her with Mercer._

'You mean this?' I say to Lorias, frowning with confusion as I raise my hand to touch the amulet. 'I just thought it was a pretty necklace. What's a Nightingale?'

The Imperial makes a snort of laughter. 'Only a little singing bird, sweetheart,' he tells me as he steps forward, closing the gap between us. 'And you were going to use your mouth for something other than singing, weren't you?'

As Lorias inclines his head and waits for my response, I wet my lips with my tongue and swallow, the action only half an alluring pretence, my mouth suddenly feeling dry with nerves. Reminding myself that I will finish him with a blade rather than my mouth, I let my eyes flicker down pointedly to the Imperial's groin, although the true direction of my gaze is towards something different. _His dagger is still fastened at his hip,_ I think as I look back up his eyes, my mind racing. _I can grab it when I'm close enough._

'Why don't you lie down and I'll see what I can do?' I say with a coy smile, moving my hand away from the Nightingale amulet, trailing my fingers over my breast as I toy with the ties of my shirt. 'You're a little overdressed, though.'

The Imperial's hungry gaze follows the movement of my hand at my breast before his own hands suddenly reach out to my stomach and he grabs fistfuls of my shirt, yanking it upwards roughly and without warning. I hurriedly raise my arms and allow Lorias to pull my shirt up and over my head, my hair tangling in the neck before I gasp with pain as the Imperial rips the garment free carelessly and throws it aside.

Without hesitation, he reaches for my breasts and his fingers latch onto the fastenings of my binding, tugging at them for a moment with little success. 'Why do women wear these fucking things?' he mutters under his breath, before he swears again and one of his hands drops away to his hip. 'What good are all of you if you hide your fucking bodies?'

He draws his dagger and raises it to my chest before I even realise what he intends to do, and the sound of the blade tearing through the material sends a keen shiver down my spine that has little to do with the sudden exposure of my breasts. _Mercer cut through my clothing too,_ I remember as Lorias throws my torn binding to the floor. _But_ _in those twisted moments with him, my desire was stronger than my longing to see him dead._

I force myself back into the present, watching with a contradictory flicker of panic and relief as Lorias tosses his steel dagger away onto the nearby bed rather than sheathing it back at his hip. _He's no longer armed, but I'll have to get him on the bed_ _if_ _I_ _'m going to_ _grab the blade,_ I think distantly, before goosebumps rise over my bare breasts and suddenly it hits me that I am naked from the waist up and standing in front of a man who intends not only to use me but to kill me after he has taken his pleasure.

'Nice,' Lorias says appreciatively before I can settle my fierce unease, his eyes languidly taking in my upper body. 'The Guild's doing it wrong if they're giving you away for free, sweetheart.' He leans closer and reaches forward to my breasts, groping me lazily with both hands, and even though his skin is warm against mine, the contact sends an uneasy shiver through my body. 'Scared, little girl?' he says softly, noticing my small shudder and smirking, although I quickly realise that his smile is different to the one Mercer wore. _Maybe he's not Mercer,_ _maybe_ _he doesn't want meek_ _or_ _fear._

'No, I'm not scared,' I say, arching my back to lean into his touch as I lift one of my hands to his groin, rubbing my palm over the shape of his cock through his trousers and feeling him stiffen a little under my touch. 'I'm just wondering when you're going to stop fucking talking and let me have your cock.'

Lorias barks a laugh before he suddenly pinches my nipples roughly, my gasp louder than his laugh, pain jumping through me at the tender sensitivity of my breasts. 'All right, sweetheart,' he says, stepping back and dropping his hands to the buckles of his belt. 'On your knees and we'll see what I've got for you.'

'We'd be more comfortable on the bed,' I point out, not moving, my eyes fixed on the task of his hands and suddenly conscious that none of the three daggers in the room are within my reach, nor is there any way I can get to them before he undresses without arousing his suspicion.

Lorias does not reply as he swiftly pushes down his trousers to free himself, his cock half-hard and my heart pounding violently with apprehension at the sight of him and the realisation of what I have begun. As I try to hurriedly think of what to do, the Imperial kicks his trousers from his legs before he grasps his cock in one hand, stroking over his length slowly to harden himself, his pale blue eyes narrowing in a smirk as I watch him with my breath caught in my throat.

'I know it's beautiful, girl, but it'll taste even better than it looks,' Lorias says, his hand still around his cock as he moves to sit down on the edge of the bed; for a moment, my heart leaps with hope that I might be able to reach his dagger there after all, but the Imperial stays where he is on the edge of the bed, spreading his legs and gesturing with his free hand to the floor between his boots. 'Why don't you get on your knees here and find out for yourself?'

I stand still for a moment, dread and regret clawing in my stomach as I realise that I am trapped and that there is no way to reach one of the daggers to finish this. _Not w_ _ithout kneeling and offering him a distraction._

'Don't make me fucking kill you before rather than after,' the Imperial says, impatience edging his voice as I remain frozen and silent. 'Get on your knees, girl.'

Before I can help it, the memory of the last time I was forced to my knees in front of a man slips into my mind. _I contemplated drawing Mercer's blade and plunging it into his stomach,_ I think, suddenly feeling like I am back in the cellar of Riftweald, kneeling while Sapphire was chained to the wall because of my own stupidity, kneeling with Mercer's pleasure dripping from my mouth because of my own weakness. _And now I'm going to kneel again,_ _because of my own stupidity and weakness_ _,_ I think, watching Lorias touch himself as he waits for me, my mouth dry and the bare skin of my breasts prickling with goosebumps and from the rough attention of his hands. _And I'm doing it f_ _or Astrid,_ I remind myself. _If I don't get on my knees for Lorias and play the game I've started, I'll never see Astrid on her knees for me._

I take a steadying breath and force myself to step forward towards the Imperial on the bed, registering out of the corner of my eye that the steel dagger lies near the pillow, unreachable from my position once I get on my knees. _Then_ _all I can do is_ _please him and take advantage of those moments when he is weak like any man._

As I come to stand in front of him, Lorias reaches out with his free hand to cup my breast, his thumb running over my nipple, still sore from his pinch earlier. For a wild moment, I think of the last person to touch me and how I felt beneath Brynjolf's hands, how I felt as he kissed me, how I felt when he was inside me – but before I can remember it fully and fool myself that I am back there now, the Imperial moves his hand to my shoulder and directs me down firmly to the floor, and I realise that my brief moments with Brynjolf are nothing more than raindrops in the cold tide of my memories.

 _Nothing can change what came before_ _,_ I think as I drop down to my knees between the Imperial's legs and rest one arm on his thigh, determined not to think any further about what I am about to do, recalling all the times that I have been touched before and forcing myself to remember that I have survived, that my body has survived, and that my mind survived as long as I have tried to keep my memories far out of reach. _But t_ _he truth is, Mercer was right, and t_ _here's a reason why Lorias believed me so easily. This_ _must be_ _what I'm good for._

I lick my lips, my mind empty and my heart hard. _Harder than his cock,_ I think flippantly as I reach forward and take him in hand, curling my fingers around his cock and stroking him quickly to make him ready; my touch seems to adequately please the Imperial, as I hear his sigh of satisfaction and I glance up to see his pale eyes darken with desire. After a few seconds, he lifts one of his hands to knot in my hair, pulling my head closer as he stiffens in my hand. I wet my lips with my tongue again and lean forward under the pressure of his hand, opening my mouth to take in his cock slowly.

The Imperial groans as he slips into the wetness of my mouth, his other hand rising to my head and burying in my curls. I steady my breathing and close my eyes, knowing how this goes. _Your little mouth has probably tasted more cock than half the whores in Riften,_ I hear Mercer whisper in my head, laughing as he watches me submit to another man. I squeeze my eyes tighter against my thoughts and decide to finish this as swiftly as possible, but when I lean further forward and try to take Lorias as deep as I can, relaxing my muscles and offering my throat for his pleasure just as Mercer liked it, the Imperial's fingers thread tighter in my hair and he pulls my head back partway, holding me steady with half his cock still in my mouth.

'Easy, girl,' he murmurs, smirking down at me as I open my eyes to look up at him with my lips around his cock. 'This ain't a fucking pint of ale to swallow down in one go.' He strokes my hair gently, the dangerous glimmer of impatience and desire and power in his pale eyes making me think I am kneeling before the Guildmaster once more. 'Kiss it,' he orders quietly. 'And let's see what that tongue is good for.'

He pulls my head further back until his cock slides free from my mouth and he releases his hold on my hair before he leans back a little, his hands lazily starting to unfasten his jacket as he waits for me to obey. Not wanting to waste a moment longer or risk giving myself time to think, I grasp him in my hand and lean closer again, this time to run my tongue over the head of his cock before I press my wet lips against him. As I lay licking kisses on his length, I close my eyes and force back a shudder, suddenly hearing Mercer's laughter in my head again and feeling twice as humiliated as I did when the Guildmaster took his pleasure at my expense. _But this_ _was meant to be different,_ I think, knowing that I chose this, that I was meant to finish this game as I wanted it to end. _But now I feel more like the broken helpless child at the orphanage, taught too young that her survival and worth was based upon what her body could do._

I close my eyes tighter and try to clear my mind, forcing myself to remember that I am no longer that child and that I decided long ago that I would do anything to enact my revenge - but the thought of my revenge suddenly makes unexpected tears prick beneath my eyelids as I kiss and lick at the Imperial's cock, my mind reeling with what my mother and father would think of me if they could see me as I am now, if they knew what I have done to get here, if they had witnessed the blood I have spilled and how I have debased myself. _Would they even want me to seek revenge, if this is the price?_ I wonder, before a sense of terrible regret crashes over me and I realise it is far too late to ask that question. _They're dead and I'm here, and if I don't_ _hold on to_ _my revenge, then I truly am nothing but a whore._

My free hand grips tightly at the Imperial's knee as I use my other hand to stroke his cock between the efforts of my lips and tongue. I keep my eyes closed and try to ignore the sound of my kisses, my knees soon aching dully as the minutes slip by and the Imperial's breathing grows steadily deeper. His muttered words and low groans seem distant to my ears, my mind blissfully empty until I feel Lorias' hands find their way into my hair again and he pulls my head forward; understanding what he wants and realising he is close to his satisfaction, I open my mouth and take him inside again, letting him move my head back and forth as he desires. _If he's close, then so too is the time for me to strike,_ _and I have to be ready_ _._

When I feel his fingers tighten in my hair a minute later and his hips start rising to the movement of my head, thrusting himself deeper into my mouth, I steady myself with both hands on his thighs and I push back abruptly, the wet sound of his cock slipping from my mouth making me cringe at its obscenity - although Lorias' snarl of anger is a sufficient distraction as I quickly pull myself free from his hold and rise to my feet before he has a chance to grab me.

'Bitch, finish what you fucking started,' he says, his eyes flashing viciously as he reaches out for my bare waist to pull me back to him.

I sidestep his grasp, my own hands working at the fastenings of my trousers. 'I _am_ finishing this,' I say, trying to ignore my nerves as I swiftly push down my trousers and kick my bare legs free, not bothering to take off my boots, knowing that I cannot give myself even one moment to think. 'Are you going to fuck me or not? I'd rather do it while you're still hard, and somehow I think it'll take a while to get you like that again.'

Lorias laughs roughly at the mocking tone of my words before he reaches out for me again, and this time, I let him grab my waist and pull me onto his lap, settling on him with my knees either side of his body as he sits on the edge of the bed.

 _And still too far from the dagger,_ I think as I clutch his shoulders to steady myself, realising that the Imperial's steel blade is beyond my reach from my current position - but the thought slips from my mind as I abruptly become aware of the contact of our naked skin and the Imperial's cock jutting hard between our stomachs. Ice cold fear rushes through my veins, freezing my body as I straddle his bare lap, and before I can shove Lorias backwards flat onto the bed and try to reach for the dagger to end this now, I feel his hands run down my back, gripping at me tightly as he pulls me closer to him.

'Think you're a big girl, huh?' the Imperial murmurs, his hands dropping lower to cup my ass, kneading at my flesh as his pale eyes gleam into mine. 'Big girl with the sharp tongue and the nice ass who just wants a cock inside her, right?'

Before I can reply, one of his hands slips around my hip to my stomach, stopping just below my navel, and my muscles contract sharply with his touch, reminding me forcibly of the man who marked me there.

'So even big girls need protection,' Lorias says mockingly, his nails raking over the scar that Mercer left upon my skin. 'Does this mark keep you safe, sweetheart?' His hand moves back to my ass and he draws me closer against him before he moves his hips beneath me, and I feel the slick of my mouth on my skin as he rubs his cock against my scar on my stomach. 'Is it going to protect you from me?'

The ice in my veins moves to my tongue and I don't have time to find the words to reply before Lorias suddenly grabs my waist and lifts me up into his arms, rising to his feet and turning around before he forcibly throws me face-down onto the bed.

My heart pounding, I scramble to bring myself upright onto my hands and knees, my limbs shaking as I feel the mattress dip deeply beneath the Imperial's weight and his hands grab my hips, jerking my body back to him roughly while he positions himself kneeling behind me.

'Come on, bitch,' Lorias says with a barking laugh as I try to brace my arms, my body feeling weak and strangely insubstantial as he presses up against my backside. 'You wanted my cock, now you can take it in your tight little ass.'

Fear paralyses my body in its vulnerable position as I feel one of his hands leave my hips. _Move,_ I think desperately as I hear him spit into his palm and I try to command my body to react, to fight, to flee, but the only part of me that responds is my hands as I clutch tightly at the covers, drawing the material between my fingers in some instinctive form of reassurance, a child's fingers grasping at the sheets beneath her, a child's fear thudding in my heart. _Fight or try to run and they won't be the only one who'll hurt you,_ Grelod threatens softly in my mind as I close my eyes, her voice clearer in my memory than her screams when I took her life.

_I was hurt a hundred times in Honorhall. I only got to slit her throat once._

Something hard and cold touches my knuckles of my right hand and my eyes snap open, registering with a keen jolt that the Imperial's steel dagger has been carried towards me upon the tangle of covers and that the blade is now lying directly beside my hand. The brief moment that follows feels like an eternity as I stare down at the dagger, remembering how the butter knife felt in my hand as I brought it down to Grelod's neck.

_I killed that bitch too late, but I'll never make the same mistake again._

My mind silences itself as I feel Lorias' hand touch my backside and his wet palm rubs between the cheeks of my ass. No longer thinking or fearing, I draw my knee back to my stomach and I kick out hard behind me, the heel of my boot connecting with the Imperial's groin.

His howl of pain sets my blood afire, chasing away the last shreds of paralysing fear as the Imperial recoils from my kick and releases his hold on my lower body. I rear up onto my knees and grab the dagger, turning around with more speed than I knew I had, ready to strike.

Only momentarily debilitated, Lorias straightens up as I face him with the dagger in my hand. 'Fucking little-' he snarls, his face contorted and his hand delving into a pocket of his jacket, but before he has time to retrieve whatever weapon he has hidden there, I raise his steel dagger and launch forward with all my weight to bury the blade in his neck.

My haste and his reflexes misguide my hand, and as the Imperial ducks to the side, the steel nicks the muscle between his neck and shoulder rather than burying deep in his throat as I intended. His vicious hiss of pain at the laceration tightens my lungs in panic as I watch the scarlet gushing from the wound, and as I swiftly withdraw the dagger and grip the handle tighter for a second strike, the Imperial lashes out with his fist, the back of his hand smashing into my cheek and knocking me face-down to the mattress under the strength of his own far more substantial weight.

'Fucking bitch,' he growls, pain shooting through my cheek and my vision dazed as I cling to the dagger and try to scramble onto my knees, but another wide-swinging punch from the Imperial's fist knocks me back away from him and onto the pillows in a pained daze. 'You fucking-'

He hisses again as he raises his fingers to stem the dripping wound and his other hand dips back into the pocket of his jacket, drawing out a small silver knife before I have regathered my senses enough to pull my body upright and try to strike him.

'So which part of you should I cut off first?' he asks viciously, the blood trickling over his chest as he moves forward on the bed to me, his knife in hand. 'Your lying tongue? Or should I carve out those pretty doe eyes and shove them down your fucking throat?'

My head still dazed and aching fiercely from his punches, I manage to draw my foot back and kick out at him as he crawls closer, aiming the heel of my boot for his naked cock again, but before I can make the contact, Lorias grabs my ankle and wrenches my leg hard.

'Your foot, is it?' he snarls over my cry of agony as he drags my body down the bed towards him. 'One fucking toe at a time?'

As he rips off my boot and tosses it to the floor, I draw back my other leg and lash out again, and this time, I manage to level a kick towards his blood-stained shoulder, the heel of my boot connecting just below the wound I left at the base of his neck. Lorias snarls in pain and releases my bare foot on reflex, the brief moment just long enough for me to writhe up on the bed; as he regains himself, his lips curl back from his teeth in a mocking smile and he makes a warning growl not unlike the sound Astrid's husband made in the Sanctuary. _But I'm not afraid,_ _I can't be afraid, I never want to be afraid again_ _,_ I think distantly, before I throw myself towards Lorias again with the dagger aimed at his neck.

White hot pain needles somewhere just below my ribs but my mind ceases to register the sensation as I plunge the steel dagger into Lorias' neck, the Imperial moving an inch too late this time and his skin parting like softened butter beneath the blade as I sink it hilt-deep into the side of his neck. The Imperial's howl as I wrench the dagger free with a torrent of blood raises the hairs on my neck and I reach forward to slash his throat wildly, wanting to silence him, to end him, to finish him, and warm blood rains upon my naked body as I grace him with a wound mirroring my own scar across my throat.

I throw the blade away and scramble back to the pillows as Lorias collapses forward onto his hands and knees, his eyes widening up at me and his roar of agony strangling in his torn throat, the sound wet and choked but loud enough to fill me with sudden panic as I remember where we are and how his noises of pain suddenly seem deafening.

'Gods, yes!' I force myself to cry out as loudly as I can, hoping that if anyone in the main hall of the tavern has overheard the Imperial's howls, they will accredit it to pleasure not pain. 'Fuck me harder! Yes!'

Lorias splutters blood as the sheets between us soak up the bright red flood from his neck, and with a jolt I realise he is half-laughing. 'Bitch,' he manages to say hoarsely, blood spewing from his lips with the word. 'Clever... fucking whore.'

I do not answer as I huddle on my knees at the head of the bed, horror and relief and delight twisting my stomach as I watch his arms give way beneath him, his body slumping into the scarlet-soaked covers.

I stay where I am long after his body falls entirely still, my fingers digging into my palms and feeling the slick of blood on my hands. I swallow, tasting him on my tongue, tasting his blood in the air, my own body as numb and unfeeling and immobile as the corpse on the bed before me, until suddenly I hear a distant burst of raucous laughter from the tavern hall and I jump, startled back into reality and my mind suddenly comprehending that I cannot risk being found here, naked and bloodied and sitting beside a corpse of my making.

As I rise from the bed, sharp pain shoots through my left side and I stagger back onto the damp mattress, gasping in sudden agony as I look down quickly to the source of my pain; briefly registering the splatters of drying blood on my naked breasts and stomach, I feel my breath catch tightly in my lungs and another gasp wracks my body when I notice fresh blood pouring from an open wound below my ribs.

The cut is wide and deep, as long as a finger and as wide as two, blood rising eagerly from the white-yellow flesh exposed below the skin and flooding my bare stomach and hips with bright scarlet. A sharp horrified gasp rises in my throat, my muscles tensing instinctively in fear, and a fresh wave of blood gushes fiercely from the wound as my breathing comes heavy and fast, panic striking through my veins, wondering how I did not realise that Lorias had cut me with his knife, wondering whether the blade was poisoned, wondering what the hell I am supposed to do next.

 _Breathe,_ I tell myself, trying to slow the rapid rise and fall of my chest as I close my eyes for a few seconds, the throbbing of the wound matching my heart beat. _Breathe, and remember that I am alive. I won. For once, I won._

Steeling myself with a deep breath, I open my eyes and raise my shaking hands instinctively to cast the healing spell; although my proficiency has considerably improved since the first time I summoned the spell, I know even before I direct the glowing light towards my ribs that I am still too inept to heal the wound fully myself.

 _And certainly not when I'm sitting naked and bloodied beside a corpse,_ I think as a numbing warmth spreads over my ribs and I watch a thin white tissue form at the edges of the cut, slowly starting to draw the opened skin back together. The sight of the knitting flesh turns my stomach, nausea twisting deep inside me and I look away quickly, although the feeling hardly improves when my gaze falls upon Lorias' body. _I had my mouth around his cock five minutes ago, now he's dead,_ I think, staring at his corpse, trying to comprehend what happened, a strange emptiness suddenly gnawing somewhere beneath the nausea in my stomach. _I won, so why does it feel like I lost?_

The spell flickers and dies in my hands before the seams of the new scar have fully knitted together, and with the wound no longer compelled to draw itself closed, the cut opens wide and fresh blood floods out freely once more. The pitiful whine of agony and fear that escapes my lips hurts worse than the resurgence of burning pain at my ribs, the sound piercing something in my heart with its bitter familiarity. _I heard myself make those same sounds at Honorhall._

Knowing that I would rather take the corpse's place beside me rather than allow my thoughts to wander further, I force my mind to empty and I flex my hands above the bleeding cut, willing whatever strength is left inside me down to my palms with the desperate need to mend the raw wound - and I surprise myself when the spell emanates weakly from my hands again, bathing my skin in a warm glow as the edges of the cut draw together once more.

Minutes pass as I heal the Imperial's cut slowly and poorly, before another burst of distant laughter reminds me that I cannot waste any more time here. I lower my hands, looking down to study my feeble work and realising that the thin lilac tissue over the cut is nearly transparent and will likely tear open again at the slightest provocation. _Then I'll heal it later,_ I think as I stand up from the bed, forcing myself to ignore the pain as the cut throbs deeply with the movement. I steady my breathing and start to clean the blood from my body as best I can, finding no flask of water or wine nearby and resorting to use an unstained edge of the sheets to wipe away most of the Imperial's blood and my own before I turn away to find my clothes on the floor and dress myself quickly.

 _And at least he's given me something beyond a cut,_ I think when I search the pockets of the Imperial's own trousers and find a handful of lockpicks, a sizeable coin purse and a small crystal vial of some silvery clear liquid.

I leave the potion, not inclined to use the unknown contents on myself or anyone else, and I stuff the lockpicks and the gold into my pockets before I pull up the hood of my jacket, conscious that there is no mirror in the room to check whether I still have blood on my face.

With my daggers fastened back at my thighs, I walk to the door and ease it open slowly, pausing to check that no one is passing the hallway before I step out and close the door firmly behind me, leaving the scent of blood behind me along with the corpse sprawled half-naked on the bed. _Someone else can bury him in the graveyard. I've done my part._

I stand in the hallway for a few moments, hearing the hum of the tavern and the noise of laughter and life, and suddenly I realise that I do not remember which room Sapphire is in. _The woman behind the bar told us when we paid for it,_ I think vaguely, trying to straighten my mind into some form of clarity - and yet my thoughts drip with blood and my mouth tastes of the dead man's cock, my body shuddering with the memory of how he touched me and how I have been touched before, some terrible weight suddenly starting to bear down upon my shoulders and almost dragging me to the floor on my knees.

 _When did I last sleep?_ I wonder as I grab the door handle to steady myself, feeling the wound at my ribs twinge and my skin crawl as I try to forget what happened minutes ago, my exhausted body begging for reprieve and an escape to oblivion. _But I can't rest yet_ _and_ _I can't be oblivious yet. I have to return to the Sanctuary, and I have to take another life before this is over._

Almost a minute has passed by the time I eventually remember which room Sapphire and I paid for earlier, and I walk quickly down the hallway and quietly push open the last door at the end before the stairs. _She should've locked it,_ I think as I step inside, finding that Sapphire is sitting on the bed with her back against the headboard, her eyes closed and her hand resting upon her dagger lying beside her. Her eyes snap open when I enter, although she says nothing and the only sound that breaks the silence is the door as I close it firmly behind me.

We stare at each other for a few seconds, part of me wanting to stumble forward, to collapse on the bed beside her and fall into her arms, to tell her what happened and how broken I feel inside. _Except she probably wouldn't want to comfort me for what I did,_ I realise, feeling a flush of humiliation over how I dealt with Lorias and how Sapphire might react to that confession. _It was only a short while ago she was telling me how strong she wanted to be after the pain of her past. She will hardly pity me when she discovers how low I chose to degrade myself._

'I need to go now,' I say awkwardly, standing just inside the threshold with one hand on the door handle, my legs still feeling weak. 'It's not safe to stay here.'

I hear the barest sigh escape the thief's lips, although I cannot tell whether it is in relief or anger or something else, and I suddenly remember what I told her before we parted ways only a short while ago. _I said I'd find her when this is over, but I know it's only just beginning._

'I'm going back to the Sanctuary,' I say, reaching into my pocket to retrieve the Imperial's coin purse. 'Take this and find another tavern to stay at for a while, all right? I'll come and meet you later once I've... well, once I return from the Brotherhood.'

Sapphire does not answer straight away, holding my gaze with a hard look in her hazel eyes for a few moments before she sighs again and she pulls herself up from the bed. 'You've got blood on your cheek,' she says, grabbing her dagger and strapping the blade to her thigh.

Startled and feeling a blush rise up my neck when I think of the far more copious amounts of blood still smeared over my body under my clothes, I shove the coin purse back into my pocket before I raise my hand to my face and rub at my left cheek. 'You don't have to come with me, Saph,' I say as Sapphire slings her satchel over her shoulder and picks up mine from the foot of the bed.

'Other cheek, Wren,' she says shortly, coming to stand in front of me and nodding at my face, but before I can react, she pushes my satchel in my arms and raises her hand to her mouth; her thumb slips briefly between her lips before she reaches out and touches it to my right cheekbone. 'You all right?' she says softly as she rubs away the speck of blood herself.

I feel tears choke in my throat as I look up at her face and I swallow hard, clutching my satchel to my chest as though it is a shield against the memories that race through my mind. 'He's dead,' I manage to say, deciding that that is the extent of what I will tell her, my shame paralysing my tongue from admitting anything further. 'And we should go before anyone finds him.'

I step back and lift my satchel onto my shoulder before walking around the thief and heading to the window, not wanting to risk leaving through the main hall of the tavern. _I can only hope Lorias' friends were too drunk too remember much of my appearance besides my ass,_ I think flippantly as I push open the window shutters, the cold night air upon my face cooling the nervous flush of my skin and the sound of the falling rain freeing my mind in some small way.

Climbing out of the window is more painful than I anticipate, and I cannot stifle my gasp as the effort of heaving my body over the window ledge sends a sharp burning pain through the wound below my ribs, my skin rippling with a searing heat as if the poorly formed scar is peeling back on itself beneath my clothes. _It probably is,_ I think as I feel Sapphire's gaze upon me, but I do not speak or explain my intake of breath to her, already having decided to never tell her what happened in the Imperial's room. _I sucked his cock and walked away with my skin torn from his knife,_ I think bitterly as I force myself to climb out the window and drop onto the soggy muddy ground. _She won't exactly see it as a success._

 _But he's dead, as Astrid wanted,_ I remind myself, shivering in the damp night air as I wait for Sapphire to climb out the window too, feeling the wound at my ribs throbbing wet but trying my best to ignore the pain and the sensation of the blood still on my skin. _Astrid will be next. And if I manage to walk away from her dead body with only a cut to my ribs, that will be a success._

 

*

 

My exhaustion weighs heavier on my body with every passing minute as we ride back to the Sanctuary in silence. Struggling to keep my eyes open, I breathe deeply in the early morning air to keep myself alert, preparing myself to stand in front of Astrid again, but the steady sound of hooves, the rocking of the horse beneath me and the rustle of the trees around us soon lulls me into drowsy half-consciousness, and the journey seems to pass in minutes rather than hours. In the light of a grey dim dawn, we stop at a small stream not far from the Sanctuary and I splash my face with cold river water, but I keep my clothes on and my teeth gritted against the pain of the Imperial's cut, not wanting to waste time trying to heal it again when I know I am too tired to even clean it with water, much less cast a spell. _There's more yet to come, anyway. I can heal and clean myself when I'm done._

The eerie silence of the Sanctuary clearing seems to soothe some of the pain when we eventually descend the overgrown slope, the deathly tranquillity of the place coming upon me slowly and settling some of the nerves inside me with its almost sleepy peacefulness - although my consciousness sharpens considerably when Sapphire and I rein our horses in at the opening of the clearing and I realise we are not alone.

The dark elf assassin sits cross-legged beside the pool of water, her hooded and robed form half-hidden beneath the canopy of the willow tree, her red silk gloved hands crushing flowers as she hums softly into the morning air. _At least it isn't the Nord with his yellow eyes,_ I think, as I free my feet from the stirrups and the assassin raises her gaze from her work.

'Oh, it's you!' she exclaims in surprise, although I doubt that the Dunmer is truly caught off-guard by our appearance. _I've caught them off-guard before and I remember how they reacted,_ I think as the dark elf puts aside her mortar and pestle and rises to her feet. 'Wren, isn't it? We were not properly introduced. You may call me Gabriella.' She steps forward a few paces, a wide smile deepening the lines of her ashen face. 'It's not every day that new members grace the Dark Brotherhood. How exciting that we might soon welcome you as one of the family.'

I manage a smile in return, not missing her wording. _They might welcome me to the family, or they might kill me if I prove useless to them._ 'Thank you,' I say as I swing my leg over the saddle and dismount, trying to hide my ungraceful stumble as I put my weight on my tired legs and turn to face the dark elf. 'I'm here to see Astrid,' I tell her. 'I've finished the contract she gave me.'

The slight widening of the assassin's deep scarlet eyes seems genuine this time. 'So soon?' she says. 'Oh my, Astrid will be pleased. Come with me, then, and I will open the door for you.' Gabriella turns away, but before she takes a step towards the stone face of the hill, she glances back at Sapphire. 'I am afraid you cannot enter the Sanctuary,' she says to the thief. 'Do not worry, it will be safe for you to wait out here.'

'I went in there with Wren before,' Sapphire says bluntly, ignoring the Dunmer as she slips down from her horse and walks forward to stand beside me.

'And I would not advise that you do the same thing again,' Gabriella says, her voice pleasantly sweet. 'Unless you would like to test Astrid's leniency a second time.' The assassin makes a brief tinkling laugh as her scarlet eyes flicker over Sapphire. 'Or Arnbjorn's restraint.'

Before the thief can answer, I turn to look at her, my heart uneasy with the dark elf's words. _If I thought Lorias was dangerous, I've no doubt Astrid's husband would do far worse._ 'Wait here,' I say firmly to Sapphire, handing her my horse's reins. 'I won't be long, all right?'

Sapphire hesitates for a moment, evidently knowing that we cannot argue over whether I go into the Sanctuary alone. _With the Dunmer assassin present, Sapphire can't exactly remind me that I'll stand a better chance of killing Astrid with her help,_ I think, feeling a sudden flutter of relief that the thief will have no choice but to stay outside with the horses. _If I get an opportunity to kill Astrid and I fail, at least Sapphire will be out here with her best chance of escaping._

'Fine,' the raven-haired thief says finally, a look of grim reluctance in her hazel eyes. 'I'll wait for you.'

I nod once before I turn away and I follow the dark elf assassin as she leads me to the rocky overhang, biting my lip when I feel an abrupt throbbing in the cut at my ribs as I walk. _Astrid will hurt me worse, but I will take that chance, if I can._

Inside the Sanctuary a minute later, the sound of the stone door closing behind me sends a shiver down my spine, and as I follow Gabriella down the steps, I clench my fists and flex my fingers to release the nervous tension in my body, still feeling the Imperial's blood on my hands and preparing myself to feel my skin slick with blood once more.

However, when we come to the end of the passageway, I realise with a jolt of disappointment that I will not get the chance I seek. _And I won't catch them unawares again,_ I think, noticing that the assassins have not rehung the scarlet velvet curtain that Cicero tore down, and the room beyond the passageway is more brightly lit, affording me a clear view of the people waiting for me. _And they have a clear view of me._

Astrid stands beside the table with the hulking Nord beside her, pouring over a faded map in front of them. The pair look up as Gabriella and I approach, but the Nord only smirks and Astrid surveys me briefly before their attention returns to their work.

'The mage will have brought seven of them to this clearing for his ritual,' Astrid says to her husband as she taps her finger over a point on the map. 'The contact wants the innocents unharmed, but accidents happen, don't they?'

The Nord growls in approval. 'Far more enjoyable than a priest,' he says. 'And what I have done to earn this?'

'I've kept you cooped up here for too long recently,' the blonde assassin says. 'You need a little... amusement, don't you? Seven virgins ought to do it.'

'Cooped up, was that?' Arnbjorn barks a laugh. 'You worried about me going tame on you, Astrid?' He leans down to bring his mouth to her ear, his next words a low growl I cannot hear, although Astrid's soft laugh is audible enough.

'Careful you don't expend all that energy on the virgins, my dear,' she says with a smile, turning away to look at me and Gabriella as we reach the table. 'I'll be expecting some form of thanks when you return and you're no good to me exhausted.' Her blue eyes flicker over me, the smile widening at her mouth. 'And it seems Sithis' new servant is rather exhausted herself,' she says. 'And flown back to the roost so soon. Was I not clear in my instructions, Wren? I gave you a contract to complete.'

'And I've finished it,' I say shortly. 'Lorias is dead.'

Astrid only inclines her head in acknowledgement, although I am certain I see a flicker of surprised approval in her eyes. 'And what were his last words to you, sweet thing?' she asks as a strange flash of satisfaction rushes through me at the look in her eyes. 'I'm curious.'

I feel colour rise to my cheeks with her question. 'He said _clever fucking whore,'_ I tell her, wondering if she suspects just how I managed to kill the Imperial. _She knew about Eravyn, so it surely won't be long before she learns that Lorias was left half-naked in his bed._

Astrid only smiles at my reply before she turns her head to look at the dark elf beside me. 'And was I not clear in my instructions to you, Gabriella?' the blonde assassin says, a small frown at her brow. 'Shouldn't you be on your way to the Reach now?'

'I was making the necessary preparations,' Gabriella replies swiftly, before she throws a brief unimpressed look at the fair Nord. 'I know Arnbjorn would rather massacre the whole congregation, but I'd prefer to poison the priest and save myself the trouble of washing his blood from my new robes.'

The Nord scoffs in derision but Astrid answers first. 'And I told you I didn't care how you did it, as long as you killed him before the new moon,' she says sharply. 'Do I need to repeat myself a third time?'

The dark elf tilts her head, her expression carefully nonchalant beneath the shadows of her hood. 'Of course not, Astrid,' Gabriella says, her voice calm. 'My apologies. I will gather my things now.'

'Good, and speak to Cicero before you leave,' Astrid says as she looks back at me. 'Tell him I have need of him.'

Gabriella tilts her head in assent and heeds her dismissal, turning away to the passageway that leads deeper into the Sanctuary and leaving me alone with the blonde assassin and the Nord. _But does he ever leave her side?_ I think in despair, realising that I will not have my chance to take Astrid's life now, not with her husband standing beside her.

'You poor thing, you must have slit that Imperial rat's throat and ridden back here without even a minute's rest,' Astrid says, her tone as a mother to a child, soothing and yet sending a bitter shudder down my spine. 'You should get some sleep, sweetling. You look tired.'

'I'll rest when I'm done,' I answer truthfully, before I pause, wondering if I may yet get the opportunity I seek after all. 'Am I allowed to sleep here?' I ask, trying not to sound too eager. _Astrid must sleep like everyone else, and with her eyes closed and her body slumped on a bed, I may stand a chance._

'Of course, sweet thing,' Astrid says. 'When you have proven yourself to Sithis and we have initiated you into the Dark Brotherhood, that is.' A slow smile draws across her face as the brief flicker of hope dies inside me. 'And you have one more life to send to the void before that happens, don't you?'

'Who is it?' I ask, trying to stand a little straighter under the weight of my exhaustion and the thought of taking another life, still feeling the Imperial's blood on my skin and forcing myself to remember that I will pay whatever price required to get close to my true victim.

Astrid does not answer right away, holding my gaze for a several long seconds until she inclines her head with a look of innocent curiosity upon her face. 'Where's your pretty friend?' she asks casually, and I feel my body freeze, fear suddenly knotting deep in my stomach with her question. 'Sapphire, isn't it? Such a lovely name to match such a lovely face.'

'Lovely body, too,' Arnbjorn adds, gracing me with a wolfish leer.

'Oh yes, my dear, she's a beautiful specimen, isn't she?' Astrid agrees with the Nord, not taking her eyes from me. 'But where is she now, I wonder? She seemed very wary of us before, Wren, I'm surprised she let you out of her sight... or that you let her out of yours.'

I hesitate, trying to calm the unease fluttering in my heart. 'She's waiting for me,' I say, careful not to say where, suddenly feeling it imperative that I do not tell Astrid and her husband that Sapphire is right outside.

The blonde assassin seems to read my mind, and she laughs brightly. 'Oh, sweetling, don't worry, I'm not going to kill your beautiful friend,' she says, before a wide smile breaks across her face. 'You are.'

The dread in my stomach abruptly sharpens into knives and my heart skips a beat as I stare at Astrid. 'What?' I whisper, not wanting to believe the assassin's words, hoping that I have misheard her.

'Your last kill before I initiate you into the Brotherhood,' Astrid says slowly, as if my mind is indeed too slow to process what she has said. 'It will be Sapphire. Such a lovely creature, it's true, but she's a thief, and thieves have enemies. Someone has sent us a contract for her life and so you must deliver her soul to the void.'

I shake my head, hearing her words bitterly clear now. 'I can't do that,' I answer, suddenly feeling the cut at my ribs throb sharply, as if reminding me of what happened only hours ago, how it hurt, how the blood felt, how every moment will be burned into my memory.

 _I killed him, like I have killed the others on Astrid's_ _orders_ _, but this can't be the final price for my justice,_ I think, having known somewhere in my heart that my revenge would require a sacrifice. _I just thought it would be my own._

'I can't,' I repeat more firmly. 'I'm not killing her.'

'Bring her in here and I'll do it,' Arnbjorn growls, baring his teeth.

'Settle down, dear,' Astrid says to her husband, not looking away from me. 'This is Wren's contract to fulfil, the last before I welcome her into the Dark Brotherhood. And I know she won't let me down, much less our Dread Lord himself. A Sacrament has been performed and Wren knows we are bound to send the promised soul to the void.'

I shake my head again as I desperately try to think of a way out of this. _There is no way, and there is no way I can do what she wants,_ I realise with despair, before Astrid's words hit me and I feel the knives in my stomach twist deeper. 'Who performed the Sacrament on Sapphire?' I demand, feeling my desire for Astrid's death slip away beneath something far more urgent as I realise that if someone wants Sapphire dead, then I will spill their blood first. 'Who asked you to kill her?'

Astrid only smirks at my question, clearly enjoying the panic in my eyes and the fear undercutting in my voice. _She enjoys having people at her mercy, just like Mercer,_ I realise, the thought clamping hard around my heart. _And Sapphire was hurt by Mercer because of me too._

'Who?' I repeat sharply, not caring whether I anger Astrid or the Nord, as long as I am given the name I need. _Mercer, it must have been Mercer,_ I think, remembering that he knew I would go to the Dark Brotherhood, how he probably knew that Sapphire would go with me, how deeply he enjoyed my fear when he held her captive. _He knew I would do anything to keep her safe, even if it meant kneeling for him and letting him use me after everything he did._

Astrid looks at me for a few seconds longer, my heart thudding in the silence as I try to force Mercer from my mind and control my panicked racing thoughts, until the assassin suddenly bursts into laughter and my tense body jumps with the unexpected sound.

'I'm only teasing you, sweet thing,' she says, amusement dancing in her blue eyes. 'Don't worry, there's no contract for Sapphire's life. I was merely intrigued how you would react. And you reacted exactly as I thought.' Before I can fully process her words and realise that she has toyed with me, Astrid's smile abruptly vanishes and the laughter in her eyes darkens. 'Dangerous, isn't it?' she says quietly, her voice strangely level and pleasant despite the ice in her eyes. 'Having something you could not bear to lose? Treasuring someone so dearly that the mere thought of their suffering terrifies you?'

Her words set my body on edge, the tone of her voice unnerving something in my heart. _She sounded like that when we first met, when she stood beside the corpses of my parents and told me they were better dead._

Astrid sighs softly and a look of disappointment settles over her face. 'And now I see that you require a little more... education before we welcome you to the Brotherhood,' she says as she surveys me. 'Let's say... another five lives. With no payment, of course, not until you have earned your place among us. What do you think, Wren?'

I force myself to ignore the flurry of lingering anger and fearful confusion as I try to understand her words, finding my mind too distracted by the thought of my parents, of how I am standing before their killer, of how I am too weak to do anything but play her game. _And she's saying I will have to murder five more people before I even_ _stand a chance of_ _get_ _ting_ _close to her._

'You said one more life,' I say faintly, wondering if I should draw my blade and end it now before I find myself slipping further into more bloodshed. _One life, hers or mine,_ _and it would be over_ _._

'And I just tried to give you one last contract and you refused,' Astrid reminds me, a patronising smile curling her mouth. 'So I think five is a reasonable exchange. Or how many lives do you think Sapphire is worth?'

I stare at her, resignation weighing hard upon my heart as it dawns on me that I am trapped to play Astrid's game. _I'll fail if I try to kill her now, and then she and her husband will just leave my corpse here, walk outside and kill Sapphire too,_ I think, regret aching dully inside me when I realise how stupid I was to let Sapphire come with me to the Dark Brotherhood, as if I knew what I was doing, as if I could keep her safe, as if I could protect either of us.

 _And_ _if I've learnt anything tonight,_ _I_ _know I_ _can't ignore the truth anymore,_ I think grimly, the needling pain in my ribs once again reminding me of the Imperial and the lengths I went to in the name of my justice. _I know I will kill however many people Astrid demands before I let my revenge slip through my fingers_ _, or before_ _I allow her to hurt Sapphire._

'Fine,' I say evenly. 'Another five, then. Who are they?'

The patronising smile at Astrid's mouth widens slightly with her victory, but the look of disappointment does not fade from her eyes. 'The first three are whores,' she tells me, her tone brisk. 'They must now serve the Dread Lord's pleasure instead. You'll find them at one of the brothels in the city. Cicero has the details, but he is... occupied at the moment. I'll send him to find you in Falkreath when he has finished his duties here.'

I do not ask how the jester will find me in the city, not needing to be told how easy I am to track down, but before I can reply to Astrid and ask her about the other two lives I must take, I catch movement in the shadows from the corner of my eye, and I turn my head as the dark elf assassin reappears in the passageway, with a travelling cloak covering her robes and a satchel slung over her shoulder.

'Perhaps you should try to follow Wren's example, Gabriella,' Astrid says to the dark elf, throwing her only a cursory glance as she approaches the table. 'Her mark lies dead while yours still lives. I suggest you remedy that sooner rather than later. And show Wren out when you go,' the blonde assassin adds briskly before Gabriella can speak. 'She also has work to do.'

The Dunmer does not rise to Astrid's words, simply nodding curtly and striding away without a word. Although I hear Astrid's dismissal as clearly as I hear her dangerous impatience, I do not move to follow the dark elf towards the passageway, struggling to accept that I am about to walk away from Astrid a third time but realising well enough that I will not earn her trust until I have fulfilled her demand. _And that requires more blood._

'And the last two lives?' I ask Astrid shortly. 'Who else do you want me to kill?'

'Later,' Astrid says, waving her hand carelessly as she turns back to the table. 'Deal with the whores first and then we'll see about the rest of your education. And maybe get some sleep, sweet thing. You look terrible, you know.' She picks up the map and hands it to the Nord. 'After you're done with the virgins, my dear, don't forget to bring me the mage's eyes,' she says to her husband. 'The contact paid good money for them.'

Realising I have been dismissed and reluctant to waste any time, I turn around and walk away, not hearing the Nord's growled reply as I follow in the footsteps of the dark elf, my blood thudding loudly in my ears and pain burning in the wound at my ribs. _I'm close,_ I remind myself as I walk along the passageway and climb the steps, forcing myself to realise that I will soon have the opportunity that I need to finally see justice done. _There will be more blood, but I know I've come too far to turn back now,_ I think, before another truth starts to gnaw at my heart and Astrid's words echo in my head. _And if I am truly walking this path, then the only thing I can afford to treasure is my revenge._

The sound of the door opening ahead returns me to the present and a few moments later I step out into the morning light behind Gabriella, the still silence of the clearing numbing the pains of my exhausted body as I breathe the fresh air. _I shouldn't feel so at peace here, not when blood and fear and death lingers_ _around me and inside me_ _,_ I think, my eyes closing for a moment, suspecting I could fall asleep beneath the willow tree if I only let myself lie down beside the dark-watered pool.

'May the best assassin return first,' Gabriella says, her low voice jolting me back into the present as she closes the door behind us and smiles at me, no hint of malice in her scarlet eyes, only a glimmer of challenge.

'Good luck,' I manage to say, my smile in return coming easier than I expect, some twisted satisfaction flickering momentarily inside me when I think of how the Imperial lies dead by my hand and I remember the look of surprised approval in Astrid's eyes, knowing that she was not expecting to be impressed. _And if I can impress her, maybe she won't expect the dagger I'll bury in her heart._

Without another word, the dark elf draws her cloak closer around her and walks away towards the nearby trees, the heavy mists swallowing her form at the same moment as another person steps out of the fog a few feet away, and with a bitter jolt I remember that the hardest part of my task is yet to come.

Sapphire leads the horses from between the trees, throwing a cautious glance towards the direction in which the dark elf vanished. I walk forward slowly, my legs feeling heavier with every step until we meet in the centre of the clearing.

The thief's hazel eyes dart over my face, a small frown of concern at her brow - and I look back at her with equal concern, seeing the shadows under her eyes and the tension in her slim shoulders, the sight of her exhaustion hitting me twice as hard in the light of day.

_But not as hard as the realisation that it is my fault and the acceptance of what I have to do now._

'Where to next, then?' Sapphire asks finally before I can manage to find the words that I know I must say. Her eyes darken a little as she waits for me to answer. 'Or are you staying at the Sanctuary?'

I shake my head and take the reins of my horse from her. 'Come on,' I say, suddenly feeling a renewed energy in my limbs, as if my body is drawing the last of its strength to see this through, and I quickly mount my horse and gesture for the thief to do the same. 'Let's just get away from here.'

Sapphire does not seem to need any further encouragement to leave, and she climbs back into the saddle and follows my lead as I quickly urge my horse forward and ride away from the Sanctuary, the pain in my ribs providing a welcome distraction from the hard resolve caging my heart.

With the clearing behind us, I take the road to the city and Sapphire rides beside me in silence, a strangely nauseous feeling in my stomach heightening with every passing minute, the sway of the horse beneath me turning my insides. _I'm hungry and I'm fucking tired,_ I think as I take a deep steadying breath, not wanting to think about the real reason for the sickening dread gnawing in my stomach. _But I know I'd feel a thousand times worse if I ever saw Sapphire dead._

'Where are we going?' the thief says eventually, her words startling me from my thoughts. 'Has Astrid given you another contract?'

I take another breath, realising I cannot delay the inevitable any longer. 'I'm going back to the city,' I say, not turning my head to look at her. 'And you're going back to the Guild.'

Sapphire does not speak for a few seconds, the silence broken only by the horses' hooves and the rustling of the trees. 'What happened?' she says at last.

'Nothing,' I answer, not wanting to tell her how Astrid threatened her life for a joke and how I could not think of a way of arguing against her. 'I have more contracts to complete and you can't be involved. I don't _want_ you involved.'

I hear the thief sigh. 'No?' she says, her tone a little edged. 'Well, I am involved, Wren. So tell me what happened. What did Astrid say? Who are your new contracts?'

'That isn't important,' I say firmly. 'It's safer that I deal with them alone... and it's safer that I deal with Astrid alone.'

'Safer for who, exactly? You?' Sapphire makes a small snort of derision. 'Or me?'

I do not answer, ignoring the uneasy beating of my heart as I try to think of a way to convince her to do as I ask. _But she's more stubborn than anyone I know, and I'd probably have a better chance of convincing Mercer_ _Frey_ _to obey my commands._

'Do you really think I'm going to go back to the Guild and leave you here alone?' the thief says into the silence, confirming my thoughts. 'You know that isn't going to happen, Wren.'

'Yes, it is,' I say swiftly. 'Look, Astrid said she wasn't going to initiate you into the Brotherhood, so you can't help me with her anyway, Saph. It's better you leave now.' _While you still can,_ I add in my head.

Before I can think of a more convincing argument, Sapphire reins in her horse in the middle of the road. 'Wren, look at me,' she says sharply as the creature whinnies with the abrupt stop. 'Tell me what happened.'

'Please, let's just keep going,' I say, not turning around to face her.

'All right, you keep going and I'll go back to the Sanctuary to ask Astrid myself,' Sapphire says, her tone sarcastic. 'I'm sure she'll be far more talkative than you.'

I pull my horse to a sharp stop and turn my head to look back at her. 'Don't be stupid,' I say, fear suddenly edging my voice at the thought of Sapphire going to the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary alone.

'Then don't tell me that I have to leave without explaining why,' Sapphire says, before she urges her horse forward until we are side by side again and she looks directly at me, her impatience bright in her eyes. 'Talk to me, Wren.'

I stare back at her, my hands working the leather reins between my fingers as I try to come up with a way to convince her to leave without admitting that Astrid pretended to put a price on her head just to prove a point - but under the weight of my exhaustion, I find my mind too clouded to provide any answer but the truth. 'Astrid told me to kill you,' I whisper, guilt riddling my stomach with my words. 'She said someone had ordered a contract for your life. When I refused, she said it was just a joke.'

Shock flickers briefly across Sapphire's face, but it is quickly replaced by anger. 'She has a great sense of humour,' she says sarcastically, her brash tone noticeably forced. 'But if it was just a joke, then there's nothing to worry about.'

'Nothing to worry about?' I echo, finding my voice again. 'Saph, I can't protect you from the Dark Brotherhood. And _you_ can't protect yourself from them either, you know. You're safer getting as far away from Astrid as you can. You need to leave and go back to Riften now before she makes any other _jokes.'_

'No,' Sapphire says bluntly, her expression like stone. 'I'm not leaving you.'

'Astrid let me refuse her once,' I say, suddenly realising how lucky I was to argue against the assassin and walk out alive. 'When I refuse again, I don't want to know what she'll do. Sapphire, I'm not letting you to get hurt for this, for my revenge, for _her._ She said...' I tail off, remembering Astrid's words, the truth burning deep inside my heart. _She said it was dangerous to have something to lose, to treasure anything,_ _but I learnt that lesson_ _long ago._ 'She wants me to do this alone,' I say finally. 'And I have to give her what she wants if I'm to have even the slightest chance of walking away from this alive.'

Sapphire does not speak for a few seconds, the hard look in her eyes fading beneath concern. 'Do you think she knows who you are?' she asks at last, her voice quiet.

I falter, a sudden flash of fear cutting through me as the thought that I have kept firmly in the back of my mind suddenly rises to the fore. 'No,' I answer, trying to convince myself that Astrid would have killed me already if she knew who I was and why I came to the Sanctuary. _And it's like Mercer said, she's probably killed more people than she can remember,_ I think, confident that the assassin likely cannot recall the faces of her victims from the past year, let alone a child's face from a decade ago.

 _Unless Mercer sent word to her, to warn her I was coming,_ a quiet voice whispers in my head, panic flashing briefly through me before I realise that if that is the case, there is only more reason for me to face this alone. _If this is all a game that I'm destined to lose, then I'm the only one who is going to_ _suffer defeat_ _._

'It doesn't matter anyway,' I say. 'You have to leave. And you're not arguing with me this time,' I add before the thief can open her mouth. 'Please. For my sake, and your own. Leave, and let me deal with Astrid by myself.'

I watch as the thief's jaw sets hard and her eyes narrow with a stubborn frown. 'I'm not going back to the Guild without you, Wren,' she says shortly.

'Then go back to the Twilight Sepulcher,' I say. 'I know you don't want to, and I don't want you to sit around there waiting for Mercer either, but at least you'll have Karliah and Rune with you and-'

'While you're on your own with a group of assassins,' Sapphire finishes for me, before she shakes her head. 'No. Let's both go back to Karliah and convince her and Rune to help us. We have a way into the Sanctuary now. You don't need to earn any more of their trust. Look, we'll wait in the trees while they let you into the Sanctuary, then once the door is open, we'll kill them and go in together to finish Astrid.'

'And find ourselves facing gods only know how many other assassins in there,' I say sharply. 'I'm not risking your life, or Karliah's or Rune's. The best chance I have is to make Astrid trust me, and to do that, I have to play her game, and I have to do it alone. I have to...'

My words falter as my mind races ahead to what is required of me and how far I am willing to go for my revenge. _And how far I have already gone,_ I realise as I try not to think about the flicker of pride I felt at Astrid's approval and the bittersweet lesson I am slowly learning; that only in death and murder am I no longer the victim. _For once, I get to taste the twisted sense of power to be the predator and not the prey._

'I have to keep pretending to be like her to make her trust me,' I say finally. 'And you can't be with me while I do that.'

Sapphire looks away, her gaze sliding between the trees that surround us as the thief draws her lip between her teeth and her expression darkens with worry. Almost a minute passes in silence, and when the thief looks back at me to meet my eyes again, something twists painfully in my heart when I realise she is going to do as I command. _And that means we will have to say goodbye._

'What did you agree to do instead of killing me?' she asks, her voice quiet and yet startling me with the question.

'That doesn't matter,' I tell her firmly. _Five lives is a small price to pay for hers._ 'I can't turn back now, but you can. Go to the Sepulcher, all right? I'll find you when this is over.'

The raven-haired thief holds my gaze for a few seconds longer before she abruptly dismounts from her horse and leaves the creature to its own will. I watch in confusion as she strides to a nearby tree just beside the road, her boots crunching over the bed of fallen grey pine needles, and she draws her dagger and steps up to the tree, raising the blade to the trunk.

'Here,' she says, as she carves a small cross into the bark with two sharp strokes. 'This is where you'll meet me in three days, Wren.' She sheathes her dagger and turns back to face me. 'Three days, all right? I'll be here at dawn, and if you're not here too, I'll go to the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary and hunt you down myself, no matter how many assassins I have to kill to find you. Understood?'

Relief flickers through me at the fierce expression upon her face and my heart warms with her words. 'I'll be here, Saph,' I promise, trying to think of something else to say, suddenly wanting to draw out the last few moments I will have her at my side.

The thief only nods and returns to her horse without another word, but before she climbs back into the saddle, she hesitates and reaches for her satchel instead, rummaging through the contents and eventually pulling out a crumpled bundle of parchment.

I frown in confusion for a brief moment until she walks around her horse and comes to stand beside me, and I suddenly realise what it is. 'You brought it with you?' I say in disbelief. 'Why?'

Sapphire reaches up and pushes the paper-wrapped dress into my hands. 'I told you before, you might need it to send me a message again,' she says as I let go of the reins and take the silk gown in its wrappings. 'And it's yours, Wren. You should keep it.' A small smile forms at her mouth. 'Maybe you'll finally find a place to wear it soon.'

I cannot help but laugh at the thought. 'My next assassination?' I suggest flippantly, some part of me regretting my words when I hear them, doubt crawling through me as I think of the path ahead of me. _Fuck, I don't want this, I don't want be alone here with murderers, all I want is to go back to the Guild and pretend none of this is happening._

Sapphire, however, seems to heed only my words and not my thoughts, and with a brief smile she turns away back to her horse, and nerves twist sharply in my unsettled stomach when I realise she really is going to leave me.

'Saph, wait,' I start, hurriedly stuffing the dress into my satchel and slipping down from my horse, ignoring the sudden stab of pain at my ribs with the movement. 'Promise me you'll be careful.'

The thief turns back to me as I walk around my horse to stand in front of her. 'I was going to say that to you,' she says, the familiar touch of sarcasm in her voice. 'You're the one who-'

I throw my arms around her neck and pull her into a fierce hug, silencing her words as I cling to her tightly. 'Just promise me, Sapphire,' I say grimly, my jaw clenched against the pain that burns sharply in the wound at my ribs. _I swore it to Brynjolf, I know it means nothing, but I still need to hear it from her._

'I'll be as careful as you,' Sapphire says, her arms locking around my waist. 'Fair enough?'

'Fine.' I hold on to her for as long as I can, until I realise I am only delaying the inevitable. _The sooner she goes, the sooner she is safe and I can finish this,_ I remind myself as I reluctantly drop my arms and break apart from the raven-haired thief.

'Three days, Wren,' Sapphire says as she steps back and returns to her horse, taking the bridle and guiding the creature around to face the way we came.

'I'll be here,' I say as she climbs back into the saddle and I take my own horse by the bridle, my fingers stroking the soft velvet of the creature's nose. 'And thank you,' I add in a rush, knowing she won't understand what I am thanking her for. _For risking her life to come with me in the first place, and for alleviating my guilt_ _and fear_ _by leaving now._

Sapphire only shakes her head slightly, her frown of concern back at her brow as her gaze flickers over me. 'Get some sleep, all right?' she murmurs. 'And watch your back.'

I nod, and before I can say anything else, Sapphire kicks her horse forward and I watch wordlessly as she rides away, the sound of the creature's hooves on the road matching the nervous beating of my heart for several seconds before the noise fades into the distance and I am left alone in silence.

I stand beside my horse long after the thief has disappeared between the trees and the mists of the forest have hidden her from my sight. _A few hours and she'll be safe with Karliah and Rune,_ I think, relief washing through my body to know that Sapphire will be out of harm's way, although I cannot help but recall the reason for our journey to the Twilight Sepulcher in the first place and why Karliah is waiting at the temple. _But the Nightingale Song was nothing more than burning a pinch of dust and it's not going to call anyone anywhere,_ I reassure myself, the memory of what happened in the Sepulcher seeming little more than a fanciful dream now, my cynicism only heightening with the feeling that it has been months rather than days since I stood before Karliah and she named me Nightingale. _And it feels longer still since I last saw Mercer._

The sudden sound of fluttering wings makes me jump and I look up to watch a small flock of ravens take flight from the nearby tree. _And I have to go too,_ I remind myself, forcing my body back into reality and back into the saddle, grimacing with the throbbing pain of the Imperial's cut as I remount my horse, wondering not for the first time if I am truly a Nightingale. _Surely birds should be able to fly away from the things that hurt them,_ I think bitterly before I shake the thoughts from my mind and I urge my horse onward, heading back towards the city and the next lives I must take.

 

*

 

The ride back to the city is long and more gruelling than when Karliah harried us along from Riften to Falkreath. Although I know well enough that it would be unwise to stop to rest at the side of the road, the steady sway of the horse beneath me starts to trick my mind otherwise, and after an hour or so, I dismount and walk beside the horse the rest of the way, realising that I will drift asleep if I continue riding. My hunger and exhaustion grow with every step, my feet and legs aching and my stomach gnawing itself sickeningly no matter how deeply I drink when I stop beside a stream not far from the city. I refrain from checking the wound at my ribs, knowing that I have no energy to heal it and no desire to be reminded of the damage inflicted by Lorias' blade, preferring to simply push the thought from my mind and worry about it later.

 _A room in a tavern, far from Gravesend,_ I repeat in my head as I walk along the road, the sight of the wooden walls of the city finally appearing through the mists in the distance. _Somewhere I can sleep for a few hours until the jester finds me and I must kill again._

Unlike Riften, the city of Falkreath can barely be heard as I approach the gates, leading my horse by the bridle and every inch of my body begging to crumple down to the soft earthen ground. I part with a few coins from the Imperial's purse to stable my horse, stroking the creature's nose one last time before handing the reins to the stableboy and setting off towards the city gates, joining the back of a small quiet crowd of farmers and travellers waiting to enter, trying my best to remain both on my feet and on alert. _Lorias must have been found by now, and depending on the insobriety of his friends, my description might be known to the guards,_ I think, drawing my hood lower over my head and keeping a hand on one of my daggers as I enter the city and come to stand in a large square, several winding streets leading off between the sturdy wooden buildings.

As I look around and try to decide where to go, resisting the urge to simply find a hidden corner of an alley somewhere and sleep there, I suddenly notice a flash of bright red amidst the faded brown of the wooden buildings, and with a jolt of surprise in my stomach I realise that I will not have any time to sleep now.

'Hello, little bird!' a familiar voice calls merrily, and the scarlet clad figure waves an arm in my direction. 'Cicero has been waiting for you!'

I force back my confusion over how he managed to get here before me and I move forward hesitantly, one hand still on my dagger. _I walked slowly most of the way here, and for all I know, the Brotherhood have a secret shortcut,_ I think as the jester steps forward too, and a few seconds later we meet in the middle of the square, Cicero grinning widely as he pushes back the hood of his scarlet cloak to reveal his bright red hair. I notice that beneath the cloak, he has changed into a faded jester's tunic mercifully without a chorus of bells sewn into the fabric - but that seems to be the extent of Cicero's attempt at subterfuge, as he claps his hands loudly with excitement as I stand before him, startling the sleepy quiet of the city square.

'How exciting!' the jester says, bouncing from foot to foot. 'How fun! The bird and the fool, on a quest to rid the world of evil and sin! Isn't this thrilling?'

'Shouldn't we be keeping a low profile?' I say quietly, casting an uneasy glance around to make sure no one is looking at us, feeling a flicker of panic when I notice that a few traders outside a nearby store are eyeing the jester suspiciously.

Cicero laughs in delight, seemingly oblivious to the strange looks he receives from the few people around us. 'Sweet furtive bird,' he says between giggles. 'No one ever sees what's right in front of them. Look, Wren, I'll prove it.' He steps forward and waves his hand in front of my face, his skin ghostly pale as the mists. 'See? Even you're blind!'

I frown in confusion. 'I can see you waving your hand right in front of me,' I say, not sure what he means.

'Ah, but that isn't _all_ that's right in front of you,' Cicero says, and instead of waving he points downward; as I follow the direction of his gesture, I realise that his other hand holds a small wilted rose between our bodies, the withered pink petals brushing against my stomach. 'The art of distraction!' the jester declares. 'The beauty of deception! It isn't all hiding in shadows and trying not to be seen, you know, you naughty sneaky thief. With one hand, you pull back the curtain and beckon the audience to watch the show. With the other hand...' He grins widely and taps the rose gently against my stomach as his voice lowers. 'For anyone else, sweet bird, this would've been a knife.'

Before I can think of something to say, the jester's smile suddenly vanishes and a contorted look of fury and sadness flashes across his face as his gaze drops down between our bodies. 'No, no, oh no,' he murmurs, and as I follow the direction of his tormented grey eyes, I realise that one of the withered petals has broken loose from the rose. As Cicero moves the flower away from my stomach and cradles it in both hands, the petal dislodges and falls to the ground between us. 'It shouldn't be dying,' Cicero mutters, staring down at the rose, his pale slender fingers running over the thorns and the curling petals. 'It shouldn't be broken. Death is beautiful, dreamless sleeps and quiet still hearts, but such a beauty, such a sweet timid creature, stupid bad Cicero should've given her a bouquet, yes, a bed of soft lilies and blossoms to rest her wings, he'll do better next time, he swears, he'll protect her, he will...'

I stay silent and still as the jester lapses into soft murmurings and eventually into silence, my heart uneasy and afraid to interrupt him or jolt him from his thoughts. _He's unpredictable, and I can't trust him any more than I can trust Astrid,_ I think as I watch Cicero cradle the rose carefully, the sight of his anguish and sorrow disconcerting me just as keenly as his words. _He said it would be a knife for anyone else, so why is he holding a flower instead and saying that he'll protect me?_

As if the jester hears my thoughts, he looks up to meet my gaze, his own eyes bright and almost glistening. 'Here,' he says, holding up the rose to me, another petal breaking off with the movement. 'I'm sorry, sweet bird, it wasn't dying when I plucked it from its home, I promise. Such a fool I was, silly silly fool, to think the lovely rose would've been safe and happy after I stole it away. Please, take it,' he says more sharply, brandishing the flower as he holds my gaze unblinkingly. 'Accept a poor fool's apologies, please?'

I hesitate for a moment, the wildness in his eyes unnerving me until I realise that something other than fear has taken over my tired body. _It's pity, and a sudden strange desire to soothe whatever torments his mind._ 'There's nothing to forgive,' I say, as I reach out to take the rose. 'And thank you, Cicero. It's beautiful.'

Cicero's mouth pulls into a wide grin in a look of relief and joy. 'So said the sun to the candle,' he murmurs before he steps back and makes a deep bow, singing something under his breath incomprehensibly before I manage to catch a few of his words. _'And so did our eyes burn to feast upon what cannot be touched,'_ the jester whispers as he straightens up. He peers around to look behind me and his voice returns to a normal level. 'No pretty gem? No sharp clawed raven? Have you lost her, sweet bird?'

'She's gone back to Riften,' I say, the thought of Sapphire reminding me painfully of what I must do. _And it isn't to play games with a jester._ I slip Cicero's rose inside my satchel and fold my arms across my body, suddenly feeling my exhaustion twice as keenly and knowing I do not have the strength to delay the inevitable. 'Astrid said you had details of my next contract for me. Where can I find the marks?'

To my relief, Cicero seems content to leave the topic of Sapphire behind and instead talk business - or to not talk at all, as the jester simply grins one last time before abruptly turning away and walking across the square without another word, his pace quicker than I expect and his red-cloaked form almost disappearing into the mists before I have even realised he has gone.

I hasten to follow him, my legs aching wearily as I hurry to keep up as the jester leads me through the streets deeper into the city. The minutes pass in silence save for the jester's quiet humming under his breath and I try to familiarise myself with my surroundings, but even without Riften's thriving crowds and noise, the city of Falkreath seems confusingly sprawling and mazelike to my exhausted mind, and after a while I simply focus on putting one foot in front of the other and keeping the scarlet-clad jester in my sights ahead of me.

When Cicero eventually stops halfway down a deserted narrow street, I breathe a sigh of relief, tasting the scent of ale and perfume carrying strongly on the air and hearing the distant sound of pleasured laughter from one of the nearby buildings. _It makes sense that the whores would be in a brothel,_ I think distantly as the jester beckons me forward and we slip down an alley between two tall buildings.

'Now's the time to play sneaky, naughty thief,' Cicero hisses at me as his pace slows to a theatrical creeping. 'Take care not to be seen, Wren - if we get caught by the hungry whores, we'll be in big trouble!' He shudders and throws a stern glance back at me as I follow behind him. 'They may or may not be naked, you see. Shield your delicate eyes! But no, keep one open. Else you're going to trip over and get in an awful tangle with the laundry, and poor Cicero will get hopelessly flustered trying to free you and fend off the whores as well.'

I do not manage to reply as he continues down the alley, the jester's confusing chatter doing little to settle the nerves rising inside me as we evidently near our destination. Ahead, I find that the alley opens up into a courtyard, the way forward obstructed by swathes of cloth and garments strung haphazardly across the courtyard. _Mostly bedsheets,_ I notice as I follow Cicero's careful path through the hanging washing and towards the edge of the courtyard, my step faltering when I suddenly become aware of the sound of splashing water and the murmur of female voices from somewhere further beyond the sheets.

'The stupid bitch tried to cheat him out of a hundred silvers,' a woman says, her voice rasped at the edges. 'She got his silver in the end all right. Nice fancy dagger he used to cut her little finger off, the thieving slut.'

I hear a burst of laughter. 'Ugly thing can't make the coin any other way,' another woman says. 'What man wants a troll sucking on his prick, let alone having to pay for it?'

Cautiously, I follow Cicero to the edge of the courtyard, where he stops and pulls back one of the hanging sheets before he beckons me towards him. I step forward, my nerves heightening further with my proximity to the jester, reminded suddenly of when Cicero gave me my first sight of Astrid beyond the red curtain at the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary. _And the people beyond these sheets will die by my hand too,_ I think as I peer around the damp hanging material and search for my targets, seeing little beyond the swathes of laundry filling the courtyard - until a moment later, a gentle breeze unsettles a row of lighter garments and I catch a glimpse of two women at the far end of the courtyard. Despite Cicero's warning, the whores are clothed, and nor do they seem to have noticed our presence; their backs to us, the two women kneel over a wooden tub, washing linens as they gossip and laugh cattily.

'I don't know why they keep her around,' the first woman says. 'She's going to bring nothing but trouble if she uses her fingers for pinching coins rather than attending to the customers.'

'Maybe she knows a trick we don't,' the other replies before she makes a sharp whistle. 'Girl, stop standing there like a statue and hang this up.'

She pulls out a sopping wet sheet from the tub and wrings it out as a young girl steps into my line of sight, her dress tattered and her curls escaping from their pins. She hurries to take the sheet from the older woman, her skinny arms trembling beneath the weight.

'The brat here knows more than that troll,' the first woman mutters as the girl struggles to lift the sheet high enough to hang it over the nearby line.

'Drop that in the dirt and we'll tell them _you've_ been stealing coins from the customers,' the second woman threatens the child, before the girl finally manages to get the sheet slung over the line, obscuring my view of the women.

'The Night Mother's chosen,' Cicero breathes in my ear, making me jump. 'Our sweet mother's children, destined for the void.'

I turn to look at Cicero, steeling myself as I nod in acknowledgement. _At least I can pretend that the two women are nothing more than these brief cruel moments,_ I think, relieved that I have happened upon them now and not when they were smiling or sleeping peacefully.

'And where is the third whore?' I whisper.

Cicero inclines his head but says nothing, and after a few seconds pass in silence save for the distant sound of water and the women's voices, comprehension starts to dawn sickeningly upon me as I slowly realise what Cicero means. _I've just seen the third whore._

Horror curdling my stomach, I open my mouth to speak, to argue, to tell Cicero that I have no intention of slitting a child's throat, but before I can say a word, the jester raises a finger to his lips to silence me and gestures behind me, and I realise that the jester is right. _I can't argue with him here,_ I think before I turn around and retrace our steps the way we came through the alley, frightened nausea rising inside me with every passing moment until I find myself standing in the narrow street again.

I stop and turn around to find Cicero right in front of me. 'She's just a child,' I hiss, trying not to let my panic overtake my body, suddenly starting to feel small and feeble and powerless against something I know I cannot stop. 'This isn't right.'

The jester frowns in confusion and concern, as if at once understanding and fearing my reluctance. 'But children are small and sweet and innocent,' he says. 'I've watched her for days, and while she may be small, she's neither of those other things. So, by logic, by reason, by all things _right,_ she can't be a child, can she?'

'It's not her fault if she's none of those things,' I snap, his words grating under my skin in a way he cannot possibly know. 'I doubt she chose to be where she is, she's still a child, and I didn't come to the Brotherhood to murder children, I came to-' I stop myself abruptly and try to calm my racing heart, knowing I cannot admit the reason why I am here. _I came here for Astrid, for a child's revenge, one that seems to only slip further away the more blood I take onto my hands._ 'If you and Astrid want a child dead, that's on you,' I say coldly. 'We shouldn't be killing her, we should be helping her escape from what they're doing to her.'

Cicero stares at me, a pained expression upon his skeletal face. 'But when she escapes to the void, she will be a child again,' he says, his voice almost questioning, as if he is starting to doubt himself too. 'We're all children there, we're all safe there, at our dear Mother's lap and embraced by the arms of our father Sithis-'

'Fuck the void and fuck Sithis,' I say viciously, not caring if I anger him and suddenly not caring about Astrid or if I throw away my chance for revenge. 'I'm not doing it. You can tell Astrid to fuck herself if she wants to slaughter innocent children. And you can fuck yourself if you want to do that too,' I add to the jester for good measure before I look away and fold my arms across my body, trying to calm myself and fight against the strange hollow feeling in my heart. _But I'm too fucking tired_ _to know what to do now,_ _and I feel like I might as well be back in Honorhall, afraid, trapped, helpless as the child obediently hanging sheets while a price is placed upon her._

I feel Cicero's gaze on my face as I try to push my thoughts from my mind, and a few seconds have passed in tense silence before the jester finally speaks. 'Perhaps we could... end her life,' he says, his voice hesitant, as if wary of how I will respond. 'Would the sweet bird be happy and smile then?'

I look back at Cicero, surprised to find him twisting his hands in agitation and a frightened expression upon his face. 'Did you not just hear me?' I say sharply. 'I said I'm not-'

'Oh no, no, no,' Cicero says hurriedly. 'Please, allow the fool explain. Astrid wants the whore dead and you want the child to live. So we end the whore's life and give the child a new life. Would that be better? Would that be right?'

I frown, trying to make sense of the jester's words. 'What are you saying?' I ask.

'We hide the girl,' Cicero says simply. 'We will have to kill the other two, to please the lady Astrid, but I can do that quickly, painlessly, like falling asleep after a long day, like a sweet warm kiss on a cold night. Doesn't that sound nice?' The jester's hand dips inside an inner pocket of his cloak and he withdraws a small crystal vial, the contents jet black. 'It's called _the goodnight kiss,'_ he tells me before I can ask. 'A tasty death, a painless death, an easy death. I'll give this to the two whores for you, Wren, and I'll make the child vanish for you too, but not to the void. She can live a while longer, if that is what the sweet bird wants.'

I tear my gaze away from the vial of black liquid, remembering the time I spent in Mercer's cellar and the potions he gave to me there. _He said it could be poison, but I knew it wasn't, and I was right_ _then_ _,_ I think, wondering if I should trust Cicero the same way, knowing that I would be stupid to do so and part of me suspecting that this is nothing but a trick arranged by Astrid to catch me out – and yet, a quiet voice inside my head tells me otherwise. _He plays pretend, but there's something real in his eyes;_ _h_ _e wants to help me, but I have no idea why._ 'Why would you help me?' I ask aloud.

'Because you're my friend, Wren,' the jester says as if it is obvious. 'Friends help each other. And you would help me, wouldn't you? Won't you? If I wanted someone to... disappear?' Cicero does not give me time to respond, as he slips the potion back inside his pocket and continues speaking. 'This girl, I'll make sure she vanishes into a new life, a _better_ life, one where there's nothing to escape and nothing to fear. Will you let Cicero do that for you?'

'How?' I ask cautiously.

'I have another friend,' Cicero says. 'He could make her disappear, somewhere safe, with enough coin to keep her hidden from Astrid. He could find her a new home, a new life, a new... family.' The jester's pale eyes light up. 'Please, let Cicero ask his friend for help. He'll make everything better, you'll see.'

'Who is your friend?' I question, wondering if I would be handing the child to a worse fate. _Friends, guests, I know what people are capable of doing to children who cannot fight back._

'A good friend, like Cicero is to you,' the jester says. 'I trust my friend. And you should trust me. Like I trust you.' He grins, excitement suddenly dancing in his eyes. 'I want to help you, and you'll want to help me, won't you? So let your fool handle these three contracts for you. Two cruel whores dead painlessly and one small girl vanished safely. Yes? Yes?'

I swallow, fearing my response and the implications of what will happen with either my refusal or my consent, knowing that defying Astrid's orders might jeopardise my chance of revenge and yet knowing I cannot raise my blade to the child's throat. _And m_ _aybe this way, I could actually do something right,_ I think, feeling a flicker of hope that for once I might protect someone, that I might save a child from a fate I know too well. _And if Cicero is willing to lie to Astrid, maybe I will still have my chance at revenge._

'Yes,' I answer finally, not needing any longer to deliberate.

Cicero's shoulders rise and fall in a dramatic sigh of relief, and his mouth pulls into a wide smile. 'Then I'll send word to my friend,' he says excitedly. 'Give Cicero a week, or maybe two. Stay hidden in the city until then. We mustn't return home until we have finished your contract.'

 _The Sanctuary isn't home,_ I think, before I hear the rest of his words. 'A week or two?' I repeat, disappointment cutting through me. _I'd hoped that_ _if I finish_ _ed_ _my contract quickly,_ _I could've gone_ _back to Astrid before her husband ha_ _d_ _time to return to her side._ 'It'll take that long?'

The jester does not answer; instead, he steps forward to close the gap between us, and I freeze as Cicero raises his hand tentatively to my face. 'The sweet bird looks tired,' he murmurs, sadness darkening his grey eyes as he touches the back of his fingers to my cheek so lightly I can barely feel it. 'And she's hurt. I can taste the blood in the air. Wren's hurt. No, that's not right.' A look of pain flashes across his face before he takes his hand away and steps back, pulling the hood of his cloak over his head. 'She should clean herself up and rest a while. There's a place to sleep just around the corner, a safe roost for a bird. She's a thief, she has gold, doesn't she? She should buy a room and wait for her fool. Her friend Cicero will take care of her contracts. Yes, let Cicero take care of it all.'

 _Except_ _he can't take care of the one that really matters,_ I think as I look at Cicero in silence, wishing that I could ask him to administer the goodnight kiss to Astrid now rather than take any more lives in place of hers. _But I wouldn't want him to do it,_ I realise, having long since decided that my blade must be the one to end Astrid's life, just as hers was the blade that ended the life I once had. _I want to wash my hands in her blood and know that it was justice, to know that every pain I have suffered has been worth it, in the end._

I nod, and before I can think of something to say, the jester makes a small bow and turns around quickly, hurrying away down the narrow street without saying anything more. Startled by his abrupt departure, it takes me a few seconds to reconnect my mind and to realise what the jester has offered to do for me. _He could be lying and this all an elaborate ruse, but if that isn't the case, then he's both helping me to get one step closer to Astrid and saving a child from a cruel fate._

'Thank you,' I call softly after the jester, but I cannot tell if he hears me, and a moment later Cicero disappears around a corner and I am alone once more.

Doubting my ability to stay upright and awake for much longer, I start walking forward too, hoping that the jester was right and that there is somewhere for me to sleep nearby. _A room in a tavern, far from Gravesend,_ I think again, my body now aching twice as wearily as it did when I walked here after leaving Sapphire. _She should be safe with Rune and Karliah now,_ I think, consoling myself with the knowledge that I did the right thing in sending her away. _And I know she would not want me to trust Cicero, but I cannot see any other way forward._

At the end of the street, I find myself at a crossroads and I look around, relief coursing through me when I catch sight of a faded wooden sign hanging from a nearby building. _Rook's Roost Inn,_ I read, realising that Cicero was right as I step forward eagerly to push open the door. _A nest or a bed, I don't care, as long as I can sleep somewhere and slip into oblivion for a while._

Inside the tavern, I use most of the Imperial's gold to pay for a room, noticing little of my surroundings or the few people around me at the bar, my mind distracted by the promise of a bed and the privacy of a locked door; after climbing the stairs and finding the right room, I lock the door behind me and stand for a moment just inside the room, a quiet sigh of relief escaping me as I drop my satchel on the floor and I look at the furs piled high on the small bed.

The thought of undressing enters my mind briefly before promptly vanishing, and I simply unfasten my daggers and kick off my boots before climbing into the bed, burying myself in the covers and closing my eyes to welcome the darkness. As the tension in my body falls away and a drowsy warmth soon comes over my body, one last thought breaks into my mind and I realise suddenly that I could have asked Cicero to save all three of the whores rather than just the child.

 _But maybe it's too late for the older two women to start a new life,_ I tell myself, snuggling deeper beneath the furs. _Even if they disappeared and went somewhere far away, they would remember where they came from, they would know who they are and what they have done, and they cannot ever escape that._

Before I can think any further or acknowledge the distant twinge of pain in the wound at my ribs, the thought slips mercifully out of my reach, and at last, I fall into a deep and dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit I made this a super sized chapter partly because I wanted to use the chapter title for both the murder-smut and the scene with Cicero. Plus it kind of makes sense to make this a big exhausting chapter because poor Wren hasn't slept and has had a lot to deal with here, so we can all suffer the same thing in sympathy!
> 
> Thank you for reading - and for waiting so long for a new update. I hope it was at least slightly worth it; I know the words are so clunky in places. Sorry. Wren and this story have long since been my escape, but right now I can't escape my head and it's been very hard to write, hence my lack of update. It felt really good finishing this chapter, though, so hopefully I can keep that feeling for a while and get the next chapter written more quickly (and it will be something a little more fun!).
> 
> For my dear readers missing our elusive Mercer Frey, I posted a one-shot [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/14184210) a few weeks ago. I don't feel like I've much calling for standalone works, nor time for writing them at the moment, but I do intend to write one for Brynjolf at some point just to balance it out... it's only fair! Besides, I have so much Bryn smut written for the rest of Birdsong that I have no idea how I'm going fit it all in... haha... my point being, I might take a future scene out and post it separately. I've a lovely one that I'm working on now that might work nicely. Anyway, the point of this was to direct you to the Mercer smut piece. Maybe go read it if you're craving the manipulative Guildmaster!
> 
> Lastly and most importantly, thank you to everyone who has read, given kudos and commented on my work; I'm struggling a hell of a lot right now and I appreciate your support of my writing very much. Thank you especially to the people who have reached out to me in recent weeks. You know who you are, but you have no idea just how much your messages meant to me. You are lovely kind souls and I wish you everything good in the world <3


	28. Safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Settle in, here's another really long one. I honestly promised myself to make a conscious effort not to squash all these scenes together into one 26k monster chapter, but I'm an all or nothing kind of girl. So you get nothing for a while and then everything. And yes, this time there is at least some smut to reward you at the end... 11k of it, in fact. Enjoy <3
> 
> And I'm sorry. If anyone is still even reading this, I'm really sorry you've had to wait so long.

I wake slowly, my body groggy and my mind not much better, and it takes me a few minutes to bring myself to full consciousness as I try remember where I am. _The last time I slept this deeply, Mercer had me chained to the wall in his cellar,_ I think distantly before the thought jolts me sharply back into reality and I scramble out from beneath the mass of warm furs to sit upright on the bed, my eyes snapping open and fear racing in my heart as I look around to find myself in a darkened unfamiliar room.

 _Some tavern in Falkreath,_ I think a few seconds later, knowing it to be true, but my mind jumps to the only tavern in Falkreath that I can clearly remember and suddenly I feel as if I am back there now, on my hands and knees on the bed, blood stuck to my skin and the Imperial's cock in my mouth, the sight of my parted lips and his parted throat and the sound of the last words he said to me, choked in blood and torn flesh.

 _Just a bad dream,_ I tell myself, nausea riling in my stomach as I recall what I did to Lorias, desperately trying to convince myself that it was nothing but a nightmare, twisted in my mind into something it was not. _He's dead and I'm here, and I have to forget about it, just as I have forgotten everything else._

As my eyes slowly adjust to the darkness and I steady my breathing, my head throbs deeply with dehydration, the pain contending with the sore needling sensation at my ribs. _Which do I try to remedy first?_ I think flippantly, although as I brush my hair away from my face, I gasp at a sudden new pain, my fingers finding the skin of my cheek tender and swollen, as if bruised by a sharp blow. _Lorias hit me,_ I recall, wondering how I did not feel it sooner, before I remember that I had other more pressing concerns on my mind yesterday. _Like the lingering taste of him on my tongue, Sapphire's expression when we said goodbye, the torment in Cicero's eyes and the sight of the child whore I was meant to kill._

Suddenly needing fresh air and not wanting to remain in the bed any longer, I force my body up from the warm furs, my head spinning as I stagger across the small room to the window, my hands fumbling with the shutters for a moment before I push them open wide; the cold night air hits me hard and my body shivers, roused somewhat from its grogginess, and I take several deep steadying breaths as I look out the window and discover that the city sleeps quietly beneath a cloudy night sky. I lean on the window ledge for a few minutes, slowly starting to think clearly, although I still find myself slightly confused when I look down at the street outside the tavern and find it deserted. _Riften was never like this,_ I think, picturing the crowded walkways outside the taverns in Riften and the hordes of criminals looking for refuge in the Ragged Flagon. _I suppose I was one of them,_ I think, my time at the Thieves Guild seeming so far beyond my reach, and suddenly the hunger in my stomach seems to rise to my heart as I think of the moment I left the Guild, with the knowledge that I might never return but without realising exactly just how much I might miss the place that had almost become my home.

 _But right now, what I miss most is the water room,_ I think firmly, and coupled with my desire for sustenance and a generous amount of wine, I step away from the window and draw the shutters closed before I locate my boots and daggers on the floor. Soon ready to venture out and not wanting to draw attention to myself with the Imperial's bruises, I raise my hands to my face and heal the tender skin as quickly as I can, the spell mercifully soothing a little of the ache in my head too. Knowing I am too weak to heal the far more troubling wound on my ribs until I have recovered my strength with food and water, I grit my teeth against the pain as I sling my satchel over my shoulder and leave the room.

Downstairs, the main hall of the tavern is almost as quiet as the street outside, with only a handful of patrons sitting near the small hearth and their voices barely louder than the crackle of the fire. _It's not like the Gravesend, let alone the Flagon,_ I think as I head to the bar, behind which leans a pretty red-haired woman while a younger girl polishes glasses beside her. The redhead eyes me suspiciously as I approach, her gaze taking in my dishevelled appearance with one eyebrow raised in a distinctly unimpressed manner, but her expression brightens considerably when I slide a sizeable handful of the Imperial's coins across the bar towards her and ask for food, water and a hot bath to be drawn in my room.

 _At this rate, I'll have to play the thief before I play the assassin again,_ I think a few minutes later as I sit in the corner of the tavern, eagerly devouring the plate of food without tasting it, my stomach simply relishing the feeling of warm fullness once more. _Cicero said he'd find me again in a week or two, and Lorias' gold certainly won't last that long if I'm paying for room and board,_ I realise as I take a deep drink of water, finding my mood brightened unexpectedly by the prospect of having to use lockpicks rather than my daggers. _I miss the Guild for more than one reason, but I don't have to stop being a thief just because I'm not there anymore._

By the time the red-haired barmaid walks up to my table and tells me my bath is ready, I've long since finished my meal and I find it an effort to rise from my chair, my full and content body begging to slump down on the table and sleep again - but as I reluctantly get to my feet, the stab of pain in my ribs is enough to remind me of what I must do first. _Gods know how bad the wound looks, but I know I can't ignore how it feels any longer._

When I return upstairs to my room, I find a few candles burning on the window ledge and the younger maid is pouring the last jugs of warm water into a small wooden tub set at the foot of the bed. Once she has left, I lock the door behind her and I drop my daggers and satchel onto the bed before starting to remove my clothes; my shirt sticks to the wound at my ribs when I peel the garment from my body, and I bite my lip as I ease the shirt away and drop it to the floor before looking down to examine the cut, finding that my poor attempts at healing the wound have torn open in the hours since and fresh bubbles of bright scarlet ooze slowly from beneath the congealed blood and sliced skin. I look away quickly from the sight, swallowing down a wave of sickness and finding myself suitably distracted when I continue removing the rest of my clothes and I realise I am not wearing my binding. I frown in confusion, until I remember how Lorias cut the material from my breasts with the same dagger I used to kill him. _And I left the garment in the room with his corpse,_ I realise suddenly, knowing the Imperial would have been discovered and wondering what they will assume about his death. _I suppose they'll know he had a whore with him before he was killed._

I force my mind to empty as I strip off the rest of my clothes and step forward to the bath, shivering in the night air. As I climb quickly into the tub, I realise that the water is barely warm, but it still feels like gentle kisses on my skin and I cannot help a sigh of relief at the sensation.

'Fuck, yes,' I murmur in satisfaction as I lower my body into the bath, but the feeling soon vanishes and I hiss in pain when I submerge the cut on my ribs beneath the water. I swear under my breath again, but not in pleasure, and I quickly set about washing the wound clean, grimacing against the pain as I scrape the dried blood from the skin.

 _My throat was cut worse and I'm still alive,_ I remind myself firmly, and I raise my dripping hands from the water and start to heal the wound, suddenly determined that I will not let Lorias' handiwork linger painfully on my body any longer. _I've enough scars from men who've sought to use and hurt me,_ I think, before I feel the strange sharp flicker of satisfaction in my stomach, just as I felt it when I saw approval in Astrid's eyes, just as I felt it when I took Grelod's life. _At least Lorias was one bastard who got exactly what he deserved, and I had the pleasure of giving it to him myself._

With some of my strength recovered, the spell comes more easily than before and I watch as the wound heals slowly but surely, the sense of power rising inside me as the scar closes securely over the open flesh in less than a minute. _Clever fucking whores can do more than kill and suck cocks,_ I think as I lower my hands before I slide my body further beneath the water with another quiet sigh, although this time the wound no longer hurts and my sigh is not one of pain.

The bath water has grown cold and my skin is clean but tingling with goosebumps by the time I climb out from the tub. Water dripping from my wet body onto the floorboards, I dry myself as best I can with my blood-stained shirt before reaching for my satchel to find a spare change of clothes, confused for a moment when I find the crushed pink petals of a rose on top of my spare shirt. _Cicero,_ I remember, feeling a strange shiver run down my spine as my fingers brush the dry dead petals and I recall the jester's tormented grey gaze when he presented me with the flower. _If he's really doing what he promised, if he's really handling these contracts for me and it's not all just a game, then he's going to have to lie to Astrid when we return to the Sanctuary,_ I realise, unnerved by the thought and deciding that the jester is either mad or there is something that he wants from me in return for his help. _Either way, he's dangerous, and I should throw his rose out of the window and let it get crushed into_ _the_ _dirt down on the street below._

Despite my thoughts, something stays my hand as I touch the petals, and instead of gathering them into my fist, I carefully tuck the fragile rose deeper into my satchel and leave it nestled beside the dress that Sapphire gave me. Suddenly feeling the cold night air on my naked body again, I pull out my last clean shirt from my satchel and slip the garment on, realising that I only have one last change of clothes and that I will need to steal or buy something to wear. _Maybe the Brotherhood will give me new armour once Astrid considers me worthy,_ I think as I walk barefoot to the window ledge, my legs shivering with their exposure to the chilly air and my hair dripping wet down my back as I lean down to blow out the candles. _But simply changing my clothes won't help to hide me, not if Lorias' friends remember my appearance, and certainly not if Mercer tries to find me._

Swiftly I blow out the candles on the window ledge and return to the bed, burying my cold body beneath the furs and curling up tight to keep warm. _The only people who are going to find me are Sapphire and Cicero,_ I think firmly, remembering the jester's promise and my own promise to Sapphire, oddly feeling more reassured by the thought of Cicero returning to me than I am by the thought of bringing Sapphire back into danger again, even only temporarily. _All I've managed to do is hurt her in the past because of my decisions, whereas Cicero is taking my dangerous tasks for his own._

I snuggle deeper under the furs, my mind wandering back to the jester's strange behaviour and wondering if he truly is mad or if it is a pretence meant to disarm those around him. _Either way, has anyone ever given me a flower before?_ I think flippantly, until I remember the men who have given me gifts in the past, the two forms of protection that I wish I could return to them. _Mercer's gift was a shadowmark scar that will never heal, and Brynjolf's was a lucky gem that he should've kept to protect himself._

Struck by a sudden panicked thought, I kick back the furs and get up from the bed, barely feeling the cold as I locate my trousers on the floor and breathe a sigh of relief as I retrieve the flawed ruby from my pocket, consoled to find it still there safely. _It could've fallen out of my pocket when I stripped off my trousers for Lorias,_ I think as I return to the bed with the gem in my hand, and it's not until I have curled up once more beneath the furs that I suddenly wonder what Brynjolf would say if he knew exactly what had happened in the Imperial's room at the Gravesend. _No one will ever know that,_ I think firmly, deciding that it seems increasingly unlikely that I'll ever have a chance to return the gem to Brynjolf, let alone to willingly tell him what I had done to his Guild contact. _He'd think that I've chosen the Brotherhood over the Guild, and I don't want to know what he'd think about my mouth around Lorias' cock and his hands on my naked body._

I bring my knees to my chest beneath the covers, closing my eyes as I hold the gem between my fingers, trying to remember how it felt to have Brynjolf's hands on my skin, to hear his laugh and his voice, to have him hold me in those long minutes after we were satisfied and the way he had looked at me like I was everything. The gem warms in my palm as I let my tired mind slip lazily over my memories, and for a few minutes I lie still and peacefully, comforted by the quiet voice that whispers the redhead's words back to me, reminding me that I have known the safety of someone's arms for a brief time, purely, and simply, and because I wanted it.

 _And besides a shadowmark and a gem, it seems I have a jester's promise of protection now,_ I think distantly before I drift into unconsciousness, the auburn-haired thief blurring in my mind into the red-haired jester until he turns into a dark broad shadow, and just as he told me it always would be, my last waking thought is of Mercer, of the touch of his hands and the smirk at his mouth, of the gleam in his eyes and his satisfaction that I am losing a game I did not even know I was playing.

 

 *

 

Rain falls lightly when I ride out of Falkreath to meet Sapphire three days later, leaving the city a few hours before dawn with a heavy satchel over my shoulder. _She's been stuck in the Sepulcher, the least I can do is bring her wine,_ I think as I pull my hood lower over my hair and I adjust the weight of the satchel, the quiet clinking of the wine bottles barely audible over the rain and the sound of the horse's hooves on the sodden ground. The darkness wanes slowly behind the grey blanket of rain, but I care little for the lack of light, trusting the horse's instincts and simply feeling relieved to be out of the city for a few hours.

 _And away from the talk about the murder,_ I think, having heard enough of the gossip about the Imperial who was found dead in the Gravesend tavern, the supposed cause of Lorias' death ranging from werewolves and ghosts to a game of cards turned sour. _But the two things all the stories have in common are that the Imperial was last seen in the company of a whore and that his murderer is still at large._

The dawn sky rises dimly when I start to notice the grey pines pressing in around the path and I realise I am nearing Sapphire's meeting place. _And the Sanctuary, but I'm not here for Astrid, not yet,_ I think as I ride forward, straining my eyes through the rain for any sight of the raven-haired thief, suddenly panicking that the Dark Brotherhood may have found her first, that Astrid has thought of another joke and intends to teach me just how dangerous it is to treasure anyone.

My heart skips a beat when I notice a dark silhouette of a person mounted on a horse, almost hidden between the trees ahead - but relief floods through me a moment later when I recognise the person waiting at the side of the road, and I urge my own horse forward eagerly, slipping my feet from the stirrups the moment I rein in the creature in front of Sapphire.

The thief dismounts at the same time as I do, our boots sliding in the muddy pine needles as we walk towards each other. _She's tired, but alive,_ I register in relief before Sapphire's gaze flickers over me in return and I see her frown slightly, the thief clearly not used to seeing me dressed in anything but our Guild armour. _And maybe she's wondering why the hell I appear to be both unarmoured and unarmed,_ I think as she looks at me for a moment, my newly acquired attire of warm woollen leggings and a patched but sturdy jacket over a simple shirt and bodice appearing decidedly less threatening than my Guild leathers. _And that's exactly what I want,_ I think, having strapped my silver dagger and the ebonwraith out of sight behind me at the back of each hip, with a new addition of a small steel blade hidden beneath the laces of my bodice and another pair of knives tucked into each of my leather boots just above my knee. _No one will ever fully disarm me again like Lorias did, and next time I'll be the one drawing a hidden blade._

Sapphire makes no comment as she steps forward and draws me into a brief fierce hug, and for a moment I forget about Lorias entirely as I cling to the thief, the feeling of her Guild armour beneath my hands suddenly making me long twice as desperately for everything I have left behind in Riften, and I find it more difficult than I anticipate to release Sapphire as we break apart and step back from each other.

'How are you?' I ask before she can direct the question to me first.

She sighs and casts her gaze upward to the treetops, rain speckling her pretty face beneath her hood. 'Besides having to live in a creepy temple waiting around for a murderous traitor to show up?' she says wearily. 'Oh, I'm fine.'

'Still no sign of Mercer, then?' I say in relief.

Sapphire shakes her head. 'Even Karliah is starting to wonder if she's wasting her time,' she says, before she grimaces. 'Not that she'd admit it, of course, but it's pretty obvious she knows we could be hunting down Mercer some other way right now, and yet she won't leave the Sepulcher just in case miracles do happen and he does answer the Nightingale Song.' Sapphire sighs a long tired sigh again and folds her arms across her body. 'Right now, I think she feels more trapped there than I do.'

'You can still go back to Riften,' I remind her, wishing she would, picturing the city more vividly than ever and knowing she would be both safer and happier there, far from Nightingales and assassins. _With the Guild to watch her back, and with Brynjolf to protect her._

Sapphire only raises an eyebrow in response and I know she will not deign my suggestion with an answer. 'So how have you been?' she asks, her tone edged with her familiar sarcasm. 'Killed anyone lately?'

I smile easily at the bluntness of her words, the cutting edge strangely soothing me as I realise I'd rather joke than discuss it seriously. 'No, I've saved someone's life, actually,' I tell her lightly, thinking of the child in the brothel courtyard, the girl Cicero promised to rescue from a fate I know too well. 'Aren't you glad I'm expanding my horizons?'

Sapphire makes a quiet snort of laughter. 'If by _saving someone_ you mean actually saving them and not sending them to the _sweet embrace of Sithis_ or some other bullshit like that, then yes, Wren, I'm glad.' She pauses, her small smile fading as she looks at me. 'So... what _is_ happening?'

I shake my head, not wanting to think about the Brotherhood or anything else right now, reluctant to spoil the fragile sense of normality I feel around the raven-haired thief. 'Nothing,' I answer truthfully. 'I have to wait a week or so for my next contract.' I flash her another smile. 'So I've only got to kill time, rather than people.'

Sapphire laughs again. 'Same here,' she says, before her smile returns a little wider. 'Why don't I come with you back to the city, then? We need supplies and I fancy doing some shopping.'

I hesitate, remembering why we parted ways and not wanting to draw her back into any danger by associating with me any longer than absolutely necessary. 'I already brought you supplies, Saph,' I say, patting the satchel over my shoulder to make the wine bottles clink.

'Leave them here,' the thief says as she turns around and walks over to her horse, having clearly already made up her mind. 'I'll pick them up when I pass this way later. Come on, don't make me go back to the damn Twilight Sepulcher yet,' she adds wearily as I remain standing where I am. 'Just a few hours, all right? Then you can go back to praying to Sithis and I'll go back to Nocturnal.' As she climbs back into the saddle, Sapphire sighs again. 'I can hardly wait.'

 _It's pretty unlikely the Brotherhood will see her while we're thieving in the city,_ I think, convincing myself that Sapphire will not be in any danger if we spend just one day together - and before I can help it, my heart lifts with the thought of a few hours spent like we used to, without the threat of Mercer or Astrid over our heads, with little more than the pursuit of coin and wine on our minds. 'All right,' I say, slipping the satchel from the shoulder and walking forward to the tree Sapphire marked when we were last here, carefully nestling the leather bag between the roots. 'Just a few hours.'

As I turn back to her, Sapphire's smile pushes any lingering doubt from my mind, and I mount my horse with renewed energy, my concern over the danger of having her by my side quickly lost beneath my excitement to have exactly that – to not be alone and to have Sapphire beside me again.

 _Just a few hours when I'm not an assassin and she's not waiting helplessly for Mercer, when we're just normal people again,_ I think as we ride back to the city in companionable silence, our heads lowered against the rain that falls heavier with every passing minute. _If thieves can ever be considered normal._

Whether normal or not, my last few days spent exploring the city with Lorias' lockpicks in hand have reminded me of what I have almost forgotten in recent weeks, and when Sapphire and I walk together through Falkreath's streets some time later, I find myself more than enthusiastic to select a house that appears empty before slipping around the back to find a locked window. _It feels good to be thieving again,_ I think, my skills having returned to me far quicker than I expected, despite some part of me wondering if my path had been bound to tearing flesh and spilling blood. _I wanted coin over blood, but I resigned myself to think that this would end only with the latter,_ I think, a flicker of hope rising inside me as Sapphire points out a safe in the bedroom of the house and I drop to my knees before it and withdraw my lockpicks. _But maybe there will be coin and a life waiting for me once this is over._

'If you've got to wait a week, you could come back with me to the Sepulcher,' Sapphire says a while later when we leave the house, our pockets refilled with coin and a few choice pieces of jewellery. 'Karliah and Rune both want to know you're all right, and I'm sure they'd rather see it for themselves than hear it from me, Wren.'

I do not turn to look at her, remembering how it felt to leave the other two thieves in the Twilight Sepulcher - and yet their faces seem almost distant to my memory, and the ritual and my initiation into the Nightingales feel like nothing more than a strange performance that Cicero might perform.

'I promised to wait for someone to find me here,' I say, some part of me suspecting that the jester might track me down even at the Sepulcher and suddenly feeling twice as reluctant to keep him and the rest of the Brotherhood away from the thieves waiting at Nocturnal's temple. 'Just tell Rune and Karliah I'm fine. Tell them...'

I falter, my mind reeling with everything that I wish I could say, wanting to tell Rune that my skill with daggers is getting better every day thanks to our training, to tell Karliah how desperately I wish I could be who she wants and needs me to be, to tell them both just how grateful I am for what they've done for me. _And I'd tell them to get the fuck away from that place and from anything to do with Mercer Frey._

'Tell them I'll see them soon,' I say eventually before I force my tone to brighten. 'You know, Saph, if you're wanting a new dagger, there's a blacksmith whose apprentice never watches his store. I lifted three steel blades from him yesterday and he never noticed.'

Sapphire doesn't miss my abrupt change of subject, and I hear her sigh in resignation. 'What I really want is to get out of this fucking rain,' she says, before she looks sideways at me from beneath her hood. 'Have you found any good taverns since you've been here?'

I nod, not averse to going somewhere warm and dry, despite having already become acclimatised to the persistent misty rain of Falkreath. 'This way,' I say, turning away to lead her down the muddy side street, my bearings of the city having improved as swiftly as my thieving skills over the last couple of days. _Falkreath_ _is_ _far easier to navigate than Riften,_ _mostly b_ _ecause it's so damn quiet and empty. I'm like a ghost here, walking in a graveyard._

We retreat to a small tavern down a narrow street not far from the city gates, the place deserted save for ourselves and the wizened woman behind the bar, who eyes us suspiciously and heeds our request with only a few murmured words of assent, the sound of the rain on the tavern roof louder than her voice.

'It's not Riften,' Sapphire mutters a short time later when we settle beside the fire with warm food and wine.

'I know,' I say with a sigh as I raise my cup to my lips, not intending to say the words as longingly as I do, knowing that Riften holds more unpleasant memories for me than good and yet the place is more familiar to me than any other.

Sapphire does not answer right away, although by the look in her eyes, I know she registers my strangely wistful tone. 'Who knew we'd both miss the bloody Ragged Flagon?' she says eventually, before she makes a long-suffering sigh as I open my mouth to speak. 'And no, Wren, I'm not going back to Riften until you decide to come with me. What part of that didn't you understand the first twenty times I told you?'

'The part where you're too damn stubborn for your own good,' I mutter irritably into my wine.

'Look who's talking,' Sapphire retorts, although her expression softens as I smile and she offers me a small smile in return.

We talk only a little more as we eat and drink, our clothes soon drying and our faces warming in the heat of the fire. I listen to the rain and eat slowly, my pace unconscious at first, until I soon realise that I am counting down the minutes again and trying to delay the inevitable. I take tiny sips of the last of my wine, stealing glances at Sapphire to commit her face to memory but only remembering the last time we sat in a tavern like this, recalling the things she said and the things I did shortly afterwards. _I'll never be strong like her, but I can be strong enough to do what must be done, and to keep her away from harm now._

'You better go before dusk starts to fall,' I say finally, long after our plates and cups are empty and I know the time has come. 'I imagine trying to find the Sepulcher in the dark isn't fun.'

'And it's not much fun once you find it, either,' Sapphire says before she pauses and inclines her head, her expression almost cautious. 'I could stay here, you know. We only hit one house. Why don't we do some more shopping tonight and I'll go back in the morning?'

I shake my head, thinking of Cicero and my impending return to the Sanctuary, knowing that Sapphire cannot and must not be a part of what is to come. _I was stupid to spend any more time with her here, not when Astrid could have people watching for my weakness._ 'It's not a good idea,' I say firmly, realising that I have endangered her enough. 'You should go back to the others at the Sepulcher now.'

The thief rolls her eyes before she exhales a sigh of resignation. 'Fine, then I'll see you again in another three days,' she says. 'Same time and place by the road, all right?'

'No,' I say, surprising myself with the fierceness of my voice. 'Please, you have to stay away until I've finished my contracts. It's safer that way, for both of us.'

Sapphire raises an eyebrow. 'Yes, it's safer that you infiltrate an assassin's guild alone,' she says sarcastically, before she shakes her head and sighs again. 'When will you be done with your contracts, then?'

'A few weeks, maybe less,' I answer, hoping it will be the case, trying to convince myself that Cicero will come back soon and I will get a chance to return to the Sanctuary and to Astrid. _And perhaps this will all be over before she even has to initiate me into the Brotherhood._

The thief does not reply, turning her gaze downwards to her empty cup still in her hands, the silence hanging between us for several seconds. 'You remember when you went to Windhelm for that contract Mercer gave you?' she says suddenly. 'I didn't think you'd come back.'

I blink, caught off-guard as my mind is forced to relive every moment of what happened in Windhelm, knowing that some part of me knew there was a chance I would not return to Riften, remembering well enough my desperation to find the Sanctuary and Mercer's false promise to give me Astrid's location in exchange for Karliah's assassination. _Well, I suppose he kept his word, and gave me a farewell gift of a cut throat too_.

'But I did come back,' I point out lightly, ignoring my thoughts.

Sapphire does not have to answer, as her hazel eyes flicker down to my neck, my scar just visible above the clasps of my cloak, and I realise what she is saying. _I came back, but not whole._

'I'm more worried about you,' I tell her before I gesture to my throat. 'You're the one waiting for the man who did this to me, remember?'

'And you think you're not in danger from him by staying by yourself?' Sapphire says sharply. 'You think he won't somehow learn that you're out here on your own and try to find you? At least if you're with us, you've got people watching your back and we can deal with the son of a bitch together. What's to stop him from hunting you down here? Anywhere?'

I shake my head, not wanting to hear her, trying to dispel the thoughts that race through my mind in a blur of fear. 'He won't,' I say firmly in an attempt to convince myself as well as her, even as I hear the words Mercer said to me, when I was strung up naked in his cellar and bleeding from the mark he left on me. _Then we can finish what we've started, can't we?_ 'And I'm not alone,' I add, desperately forcing my memories from my mind. 'Cicero is helping me with my contracts, and he-'

'Cicero?' Sapphire repeats. 'The creepy jester from the Sanctuary? The fact that you think you can trust a mad assassin to keep you safe isn't exactly reassuring, you know.'

'Don't be stupid, Saph, I don't trust him or anyone else to keep me safe,' I say, my tone sharper than I intend. 'As for Mercer, he always knew I would come here, to Falkreath and the Brotherhood. If he wanted to find me, he would've done it already.'

Sapphire nods, but her lips are pinched tightly. 'And it's not like Mercer to play games, is it?' she mutters sarcastically under her breath before she raises her voice to a more audible level. 'So what, then? You'll just come back to the Sepulcher when you're finished here? And if I don't see you in a month or two, should I assume you've been killed on one of your assassinations or by Mercer and that I should stop waiting for you to ever come back?'

The bluntness of her words cuts something in my heart when I realise that could be a very real possibility. 'I don't know,' I say weakly, suddenly feeling a sense of desperate hopelessness consume me as the words rise just as desperately from my tongue. 'I just know that you can't be here with me now. I can't let you get hurt because of me again, Sapphire. Do you think I've forgotten what Mercer did to you, how he chained you in his cellar, stripped you, hit you and cut you, all because of me? Do you think I don't know perfectly well that Astrid will do even worse to you if she wants to and I give her reason to?' I draw breath and exhale a cold laugh, the sound as bitter as the words spilling from my mouth. 'For fuck's sake, Sapphire, why do you think I want to do this by myself?'

The thief says nothing in the wake of my words, her expression softening abruptly and her hazel eyes widening with unspoken pain - and when she does open her mouth to speak, I realise in that moment that she intends to apologise and I know I cannot let her do it, not wanting to hear her apologise to me, not when she has only ever been at my side and I am the one who has lead her here.

'Come on, we should get those supplies before you head back to the Sepulcher,' I say before she can speak, forcing my tone to sound brighter. 'And don't worry about any of this, all right? I'll be fine, and so will you. I'm sure we'll all be back in the Ragged Flagon in no time.' I manage an unsteady smile as I quickly rise to my feet. 'Look, there's a market just around the corner. We can get food for you to take back to the temple there.'

I don't give her a chance to argue or say anything more, and I turn away from our table and head across the tavern towards the door just as it opens from outside and a group of men enter, shaking the rain from their clothing and arguing over which of them is buying the first round of drinks. I dart to the side to let them pass before slipping out into the downpour myself, letting the door swing shut behind me and tilting my head back as I breathe the fresh wet air for several seconds.

 _This will be all right,_ I tell myself, trying to calm my sudden helpless fear and to remember that I survived the past few days alone without coming to any harm. _And I'll get through however many days are still to come._

'Don't you think I feel the same about you?' Sapphire's voice behind me makes me jump and I turn around, not realising that she followed me outside, and as I look at her, I find that the pain in her eyes to be replaced by fire. 'I was at the Guild for five years, I was working with Mercer for _five years,'_ she says bitterly. 'And I didn't stop him from hurting you. I should've slit his throat when I had the chance, or I should've stopped you from going near him. I didn't, and you suffered because of that.'

'You couldn't have-' I try to say, but the thief cuts over me.

'If you're out here on your own and he finds you, I'm not going to be able to stop you from suffering at his hands again,' she says sharply. 'And if I'd just kept you away from him from the start, none of this would've happened. Gods, we'd probably be drinking in the Ragged Flagon right now, not here with all this...' Her voice abruptly tails off and she shakes her head, seemingly thinking better of what she was going to say. 'All this fucking rain,' she finishes quietly, turning her gaze to the sodden ground.

Neither of us speak for a moment, and we stand in the rain in silence, the downpour wetting our hair and faces as the rushing sound of the rain settles something in my heart unexpectedly. _It rained_ _that night Astrid killed my parents_ _,_ I remember before I can stop myself, and yet as I stand in the rain now, I soon realise that I feel the pain of my memories only distantly, suddenly conscious that my determination to finally attach some sense of justice to my pain is now stronger than the lingering pain itself. _When I picture Astrid's body before me, my hands drenched in_ _the torrents of_ _her blood_ _as if it were falling rain_ _, the memory of my parents doesn't hurt so badly, because I know it will_ _be_ _avenged._

'But we're not there, we're here,' I say finally. 'And I'm here for my parents, for Astrid, for _me_. I've come too far to let Mercer stop me now.' I force my mouth into a small smile as I look across at Sapphire, noticing the rain splashing off her Guild armour and realising with a jolt that we no longer wear the same uniform and that I no longer look like I belong to the Thieves Guild. 'Or you,' I add sadly. 'I can't let you or anyone else stop me, otherwise everything I've done will have been for nothing and I... I have to believe it was all for something, Saph. I have to believe that.'

Sapphire's eyes flash bright and she steps forward, and in that moment I know she will not argue any further. 'It won't have been for nothing,' she tells me, her voice low and sharp. 'You'll see the bitch dead, you know that, right?'

I nod, the sound of the words in her fierce voice sparking my resilience anew, finally allowing me to believe it at last. 'And Mercer too,' I say, trying to copy her tone, to make it seem real - but in my voice, one that I have heard begging for Mercer's touch too many times, the words sound nothing more than a foolish child's prayer.

Whether Sapphire believes me as willingly as I believed her, I cannot tell, as the thief only nods once, her jaw set hard. 'Where's this market, then?' she says briskly, as if for once she realises that there is no sense in stubbornly arguing with my decision.

I nod too and lead the way to the market, my heart grim but relieved that she will not push the matter further. Neither of us speak as we sidle between the stalls, until Sapphire points out a likely target and I distract the trader with a series of questions while Sapphire slides a few choice items into her satchel. Our last minutes together pass too quickly, and I feel a curiously numb sense of detachment when I find myself standing beside Sapphire near the city gates a short while later, hardly believing that this might be the final time I say goodbye to her. With the normal mid-afternoon throng of travellers entering and leaving Falkreath noticeably thinned by the persistent rain, there is no crowd blocking Sapphire's way from the city, and I realise that I am the only one who can delay her departure. _But I know I can't hold on to her_ _any longer_ _._

'I'll come find you,' I say, forcing my voice to sound louder and stronger than the rain. 'Soon.'

Sapphire nods, her expression shadowed by her hood. 'Soon,' she agrees.

The thief goes to turn away and I grab her arm, my hand closing tight about her elbow. 'And I'll leave a message for you at the tree, the next time I'm headed to the Sanctuary,' I say, not able to bear the thought that I am losing her so entirely. 'That way if you pass it, you'll know I'm still alive,' I finish awkwardly as I release her elbow and fold my arms across my own body, suddenly needing to hold on to something and knowing I only have myself now.

'Try to stay that way,' Sapphire replies lightly. 'And you know where I am, Wren.' She does not step forward to hug me, and I do not step forward either, not knowing the reason for her hesitation but knowing well enough that if I wrapped my arms around her myself, I would not let her go. 'Watch your back, all right?'

'You too,' I manage to reply, before she turns away without another word and walks towards the gates.

I watch her for only a moment before I turn around and walk away too, not wanting to watch her leave or give myself any time to feel the sharp pricking in my eyes. _Get a fucking grip, this isn't goodbye, I'll see her again,_ I tell myself firmly as I walk back through the city, deciding to return to my bed at the Rook's Roost and bury myself once more in the mass of furs awaiting me there, the promise of oblivion sweeter than ever. _She's safer_ _being away from me_ _, and now there is nothing to treasure but my revenge._

 

*

 

More than a week slips by and I keep my worry about Sapphire far from my mind, spending most of my days exploring the city and stealing what gold and sellable items I can. When it nears two weeks since Cicero promised to handle my contract and still I have seen no sign of the jester, my impatience starts to eat away at my nerves, leaving me wondering just how long I will be trapped aimlessly here, half a thief and half an assassin but without a real purpose for either.

 _Also fuck the rain and the gods damned fucking mud,_ I think one evening as I skulk in the alley across from the large house that I have been studying for several days, convinced by its glass window panes and polished marble statues beside the front door that I will find something worthwhile inside and yet hesitant to make my move to investigate. _It's hard to sneak around when I'm slipping on rain-washed walkways or leaving trails of muddy footprints behind me._

Deciding to risk it regardless of the rain, I head around to the back of the house and through the neatly tended gardens before I crouch down in front of the carved oak back door and set to work on the locks. Clumsier in the chilly rain, I find the locks far more difficult than I anticipate, and it is not long before I swear under my breath with every broken lockpick that I drop onto the ground in front of me.

Night has fallen heavily by the time I abandon my efforts, my hands slippery with rain and my frustration greater than my patience as I gather up my broken lockpicks and stuff them into the pocket of my jacket. _Tomorrow either I'll break these locks or Cicero will find me,_ I think firmly as I leave the gardens and head back in the direction of the Rook's Roost, my irritation sparked by my failure now rising even faster when I think of the absent jester and how I can only wait helplessly for him to return. _Letting Sapphire go wasn't enough, I should've done this all by myself,_ I realise as I take a shortcut through a winding darkened alley, drawing my jacket tightly around me against the rain _. I could've rescued the child and killed the damn whores and be on my way to sending Astrid to the void with them by now._

Sighing and trying to control my frustration, I hurry down the alley, thinking instead of my warm bed in the tavern - although the thought slips from my mind halfway down the alley when I feel goosebumps suddenly race down my spine, and my heart jumps hard a second before I even hear the male voice from the darkness behind me.

'Hey, sweetheart,' the voice calls, and the sudden panicked racing of my heart abates a moment later when I register that the low and husky male voice is not familiar to my ears. 'Come back here a minute and I'll show you a good time.'

I ignore him and keep walking as fast as I can, relieved that it is only a stranger looking for amusement. _If it were Mercer, he would've used the shadows and taken me by surprise,_ I think, although that thought only leaves me conscious of the darkness of the alley ahead of me and what Mercer might do if he were to surprise me now.

'Come on, don't be like that,' the man says from behind me, his voice closer as I hear footsteps catching up with mine and I realise he is following me. 'Let me see your pretty face, darlin'.'

I stop walking and turn back to him, resisting the urge to draw my blades straight away, not wanting to risk provoking him to violence if I can get away unbloodied - but with another flash of relief, I find that the balding Breton standing five feet away appears to be unarmed, and as I quickly scan his rain-soaked clothing and find no weapons or armour on his slender body, I realise I have little to fear.

'Fuck off or I'll slit your throat,' I say coldly, not doubting my ability to make good on my threat. _Lorias was more dangerous, and I handled him._

The man only laughs, seemingly unfazed by my words. 'All right, bitch,' he says, grinning as he looks me up and down through the shadows of the alley. 'We could've played nice, you know.'

'I said fuck off,' I snap, suddenly feeling an uneasy shiver down my spine at his words, and I turn away swiftly and start walking down the alley once more - but my feet falter on the muddy ground and my heart skips a beat as the darkness ahead seems to move before my eyes, and a second later three more men step out of the shadows, broader than the first and each taller than me by a head and a half.

'Now just where do you think you're going, eh?' one says as they block my path and come to stand before me, none of them noticeably armed but their size alone dwarfing me and leaving me undeniably outmatched. 'No need to look so frightened, girl, we only want a word with you.'

'Yeah, we want to talk _business,_ sweetheart,' the man to his left says, his loud grating voice oddly familiar, although in my panic I cannot place it.

'Business?' I repeat sharply as I back away, knowing what the word means and knowing also that I would be smarter to get away while I still can. 'I'm not a whore, so leave me alone, all right?'

As I turn around to try to run, I find my way blocked by the Breton who first called to me. 'Oh, _not a whore,_ was that?' he mimics as he steps forward to stand right in front of me. 'You've said that before, bitch. We didn't believe you then and we don't now.'

I back away again, only to find myself stumbling against one of the three men behind me, and before I can reach down to my back hip to retrieve one of my blades from under my jacket, a pair of strong hands grab my arms from behind, holding me in place.

'Let me go, you fucking-' I start to say, my words stopping abruptly when the man holding me twists my arms tight behind my back and I yelp as pain shoots up to my shoulders.

'I said we could've played nice,' the Breton in front of me says with a rough laugh. 'All you had to do was show me that pretty face. Instead you promised to cut my throat.' He smirks coldly and his voice drops to a dangerous murmur. 'You like cutting throats, do you, sweetheart? You like fucking a man before you kill him, too? Leaving him dead on his bed afterwards, eh?'

My blood turns as cold as his smile as I stare at him, some frightened clarity forming at the back of my mind with his words, and as the two other men move to stand either side of me, effectively trapping between their bodies, I realise with a jolt of fear who the men are and why they have sought to find me. _And they're not so drunk as they were in the Gravesend, and they know what I did after Lorias and I left them to talk business._

Instinctively my body struggles to free itself from the hold on my arms, fear striking through me with my sudden awareness, but the man holding me from behind wrenches my arms back roughly, making me hiss in pain as the other men laugh loudly.

'Yeah, maybe you should've played nice,' the blond-haired Nord on my left says, before I feel his large hands on my body, pulling back the damp hem of my jacket. 'Now hold the bitch still, she's probably armed.'

As the man holding me tightens his grip on my arms and I gasp sharply in pain again, the Breton in front of me steps forward and reaches out to help his friend search for my weapons, their groping hands crawling over my hips and thighs as I pray that they do not discover all of my blades - although my heart sinks a second later when the Breton finds my silver dagger and the ebonwraith blade fastened on the back of my hips.

He laughs softly, leaning forward until his body presses against mine and he brings his mouth down to my ear, his breath strong with mead. 'Think you can hide them here?' he says, chuckling quietly as I shudder, and he rips my daggers from my hips roughly and lets them drop to the ground with a clatter before his hands reach around my body again, slipping down to grope at my ass. 'What else you hiding back here, eh? Shall we have a look?'

'Fuck you,' I spit, intending to raise my knee into his groin, but the man to my right suddenly grabs my head and tears my hood back, taking a fistful of my hair and yanking my head backwards.

'There's the pretty face,' he says over my whimper of pain as I am forced to stare helplessly up at him, rain falling on my cheeks and forehead. 'I never finished telling you about the Jarl's wife, did I? She's prettier than you, but I reckon you suck cock better, don't you?'

'Maybe we can find out later, after she's been taught her lesson,' the Breton says, stepping back from me before glancing at the fair Nord on my left. 'Go tell him we've got her. Unhurt and unspoilt, as requested.'

 _Him,_ I echo in my mind as the Nord turns away without a word and disappears into the darkness of the alley, fear jolting deep in my stomach and bitter comprehension dawning upon me when I realise who the men are working with. _He wants me unhurt and unspoilt, because he is the only one allowed to hurt and use me._

'Please,' I whisper, hating the sound of the word but unable to fight the panic setting hard in my heart as I realise that Mercer has found me and that the men intend to take me to him, realising that I would rather take my chances with Lorias' friends than see the gleam in Mercer's dark eyes, both of us knowing he has won. 'Look, you could tell him that you couldn't find me, or that I'm dead, please, I swear I'll make it worth your-'

The hand grasping my hair jerks my head back sharply and I stop speaking as I gasp in pain, knowing my words are futile, knowing that whatever Mercer has promised them will be more than I can offer.

'Don't think so, sweetheart,' the man behind me says, confirming my thoughts. 'With the gold we'll get for bringing you in, we could buy five other whores just as fine as you.'

'Besides, after he's done with you, maybe we'll get our turn anyway,' the Breton adds, before he grins widely and leans close once more, bringing his face directly in front of mine. 'Oh, and that pretty lass you were with the other day?' he says softly, his eyes gleaming through the shadows. 'The dark-haired beauty? We'll find her next, and I'm sure _she_ can make it worth our while.'

Whatever fear chilled my blood at the thought of being taken to Mercer turns to hot burning fury as I stare back at him, my blood thudding in my ears and raindrops catching on my lashes. _The Brotherhood didn't see Sapphire with me, but Lorias' friends did,_ I realise distantly as I suddenly recall my experience with the Imperial and I imagine Sapphire being subjected to worse at the hands of Lorias' friends. _For something she had no part in._

'You'll die before you lay one hand on her,' I hiss, no longer struggling against the man's steel grip on my arms behind me or the other man's hold of my hair. 'If you even try, I'll cut off whatever part of you touches her, you fucking bastards.'

The Breton smirks as the two others burst into laughter at my words. 'Why so protective, eh?' he says mockingly. 'She your lover or something?' He laughs, stepping back as his gaze flickers over my body. 'Now that I'd like to see. But surely you don't lick her cunt with that dirty tongue of yours, do you?'

'Go near her and I'll cut off your cock and shove it down your fucking throat, you son of a bitch,' I say viciously, more than willing to demonstrate to him just how dirty my tongue is with my words. 'Touch her and I'll fucking-'

'No wonder Lorias wanted to get it in you,' the Breton says over my threats as the other two laugh again. 'Hot-tongued little firesprite, aren't you?'

'Think she's as hot everywhere else too?' the man on my right says, finally releasing his hold on my hair and reaching down to rub his rain-wet hand between my legs, his touch making me shudder even through my woollen leggings. 'What, you don't like that, sweetheart? Maybe you'd be warmer for my cock instead, eh?'

I force myself to not struggle and remain silent as they laugh, white-hot rage flaring inside me as I listen to the sound of their amusement. _Grelod laughed, Mercer laughed, Astrid laughed,_ I think, knowing that each has believed me to be weak and unthreatening, to be entertainment, to be a little girl too inadequate to defend herself or others from harm. _I've only proven one of them wrong so far, but I remember how good that felt,_ _and I know how good it will feel to make the others pay too_ _._

'Come on, we can find out how warm she is once we're out of this fucking rain,' the Breton says, throwing a glance around the alley before looking back at me. 'Scream and that sharp tongue of yours will get cut in half. Understood?'

I do not answer as he turns around and starts to lead the way down the alley, my mind racing and my body obeying easily as I let the man holding my arms push me forward and I follow the Breton and the other man, the sound of the rain suddenly deafening in my ears. _It felt fucking good to prove Grelod wrong,_ I think again, conscious that I no longer feel afraid of her memory, of Mercer's looming presence, of the men dragging me down the alley. _It will feel just as good to prove them wrong too,_ _and to stop any chance of them hurting Sapphire_ _._

I have only taken a few steps before I stop walking abruptly, and the man holding my arms nearly trips on my heels as he is forced to stop too.

'Move, bitch, or I'll-' he starts to say, and in one quick motion I kick back at him sharply, the heel of my boot connecting with the man's knee.

It is not enough to topple him but his hold on my arms lessens on reflex as he recoils, and I use that moment to wrench my arms free and dart to the side, surprising myself as much as the man when he finds only shadow where I was standing a moment ago. Before he can gather his bearings, my well-placed kick to his groin sends him stumbling back with a howl, by which time the other two men have turned around and my hands have retrieved the two small blades from my boots.

My mind processes little as my body moves of its own accord and I leap forward into the darkness, the shadows seeming to at once benefit my blades and hinder the men; the Breton draws a long steel dagger from inside his jacket a second too late, and I bury my knives into his chest before he can strike, the wounds shallow but enough to send him falling to the ground as I withdraw the blades, the colour of his blood bright to my eyes even through the night's darkness and the sound of his cry of pain warming my own blood with pleasure.

The man to my right lunges for me and grabs only empty air as I duck beneath his arms, tearing at his leg and hip with my bloodied knives, leaving one stuck in his thigh. As he cries out and reaches for me wildly, I straighten up behind him and grab his hood in one hand, wrenching his head back sharply before I sink my other knife into his neck, pulling it free and stabbing down harder a second time, the blood on my hands wetter and warmer than the rain as I give him a third wound before I release him and let him crumple spluttering to the ground.

I hear footsteps in the puddles of water directly behind me and I remember the man who held my arms, only temporarily stunned by my kick, and I whirl around to meet him, finding that he has picked up and drawn my own silver dagger from the ground. As he brings it down towards my head, I dart backwards, narrowly avoiding the cut and feeling my heart skip a beat in sudden fear, remembering how I have been hurt by my own blades in the past. With only one small knife in my hand and knowing my luck surely cannot last, I back away quickly, my other hand fumbling with the ties of my bodice to retrieve my final hidden blade - but as the man strides after me and raises my silver dagger to strike again, he loses his balance in the slick of blood and rain and mud on the ground and he stumbles forward ungainly, swearing loudly, the result almost so comical that I feel the sudden urge to laugh.

I resist the desire and take my advantage, leaping forward nimbly to bury my knife in the side of his neck before he can regain his balance, and as he howls in pain, I rip the blade free and slash his throat wide before I put my hands on his shoulders and shove him easily down to the wet ground.

As he chokes, I lay a hard kick to his bleeding throat before turning away, hearing a spluttering wheezing sound over the rush of the rain, and I look around to find the Breton kneeling on the ground a short distance away, hands clutching at the seeping wounds I left on his chest.

I walk forward to him, pausing to drop to my knee beside the twitching body of his comrade and rip my knife free from his thigh before I approach the Breton. 'I think I said something about cutting off your cock and shoving it down your throat,' I say softly, more tempted to act upon my words than I expected, the fire raging in my blood tempted me to the prospect of reaching down to free the man's cock from his trousers, to sever him from himself, to shove that part of him into his mouth like I have had it forced between my own lips more times than I can recall. _But I'm no longer_ _that_ _weak girl to be_ _taken and_ _used like that, and I don't want to touch his cock voluntarily, even if it would give me pleasure to see him so humiliated,_ I think as I push the urge aside and smile down at the Breton, knowing that his death, my victory and Sapphire's safety is enough to satisfy me. 'You're lucky I've decided to play nicely.'

'Please-' the man gasps, and I kick him in the chest to send him flat on the ground before I drop down onto my knees to bury both blades in his throat, satisfaction coursing deep through me to know that his last word will be so pitiful. _Please, please... it's good to hear someone else say it, and for them to be ignored just as I was._

I draw the knives free from his neck and wipe them clean on his clothing before straightening up and tucking the knifes safely back into my boots. I turn away from the still-spluttering Breton quickly, not in fear or distaste but with utter disinterest. _Grelod was worth it, Astrid will be worth it, but these fucking bastards don't deserve to be burned into my memory,_ I think as I walk away to find my daggers, the sounds of the three men breathing their last breaths meaning little to me, their bodies nothing more than corpses to me already.

With Nightclaw and my silver dagger sheathed at my hips once more, I check my clothing as best I can through the darkness, relieved to see only a few red smudges that the rain is already washing away. _Maybe Falkreath's endless rain isn't so bad,_ I think as I rub quickly at the marks on my jacket to wash away the blood quicker, before I pull up my hood and continue my path through the alley, my legs surprisingly steady and my hands oddly no longer feeling chilly in the cold night air. _And maybe I should kill in the rain more often, rather than in a man's bed._

As I make my way back to the Rook's Roost through the dark streets, I cannot help but glance behind me repeatedly, wary that someone might have seen what happened and wanting to make sure I am not being followed - and to my relief, I see no one for the entire journey save for a few beggars huddled around a small fire in a sheltered alley, and I console myself that if anyone had witnessed what had happened with Lorias' friends, surely they would have chased me down or raised an alarm.

 _I'm safe, and they're dead,_ I think with satisfaction when I finally approach the Rook's Roost, the tavern a welcome sight as I start to shiver in my rain-sodden clothing and hurry through the puddles to the door, wanting to be back in my room before the city awakens and the discovery of the three corpses starts to circulate the streets. _They'll have more to gossip about than one Imperial bastard's death now,_ I think, wondering whether the guards will attribute the new trio of murders to the same person who killed Lorias. _And what of the whores that Cicero is killing on my behalf? Will they assume those murders are the work of the same person too? Will everyone know that all that blood is on one woman's small hands?_

I push the thought away and try to remain calm as I enter the quiet tavern, not wanting to appear nervous and draw the attention of the few patrons or the red-haired woman behind the bar, but despite my intentions, my mind remains troubled and a vague sense of dread starts to crawl over me, mounting heavier with every step I take as I climb the stairs to the first floor - and it is not until I am back in my dark room with the door locked securely behind me that the reason for my unease dawns on me.

 _There was a fourth man, one that I didn't kill,_ I remember suddenly, recalling the Nord who left the alley ahead of the other men and realising that for all the blood on my hands, it is not enough to keep me safe when I realise that he will know who is responsible for the corpses of his friends. _And if they were watching me since they saw me with Sapphire, they surely knew where I've been staying, and where I can be found right now._

Instinctively I back away from the locked door and stride over to the window, slamming the shutters closed before moving back to stand in the centre of the room, heart pounding and half-expecting Mercer to step out of the shadows right now, smirking at how I am so easily cornered.

 _I just need to find somewhere else to stay, another tavern far from here,_ I think firmly, trying to calm my panic as I hurriedly start to gather up my clothes and my few stolen possessions and shove them untidily into my satchel, glancing frequently towards the door as I listen not only for footsteps but for a jingle of bells too. _If Cicero came to find me right now, we could go back to the Sanctuary, and surely even Mercer couldn't get me while I was there,_ I think, surprised that the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary should suddenly seem the safest place to be, before I shake my head and force the thought from my mind, instead remembering the fire I felt in my blood as I stood over the men, relishing the memory of my victory and starting to feel my fear disappear as swiftly as it did in the alley. _I just saved myself from three men who were going to take me to Mercer, I don't need a fucking jester or anyone else to help me hide in the shadows from further harm,_ I think as I finish packing my things, my hands hesitating momentarily over my Guild jacket when I realise it will not fit into my satchel. Knowing I cannot leave it behind but not wanting to wear it and risk making it easier for anyone to identify me, I sling my full satchel over my shoulder and gather the jacket into my arms to carry it instead, casting a final glance around the shadowy room to make sure I have left nothing behind.

 _Although maybe I should leave a trail for Cicero to follow so he knows where I am,_ I think, pausing at the door as I wonder whether the jester will be able to find me if I am not waiting here for him. _But I suppose a trail of rose petals might not fool Mercer,_ I think flippantly, before I unlock the door and leave the room, deciding that I cannot afford to worry about the jester and that I can only trust that he will find me on his own. _And before anyone else does._

*

 

To both my intense relief and my growing impatience, neither Mercer nor Cicero find me over the next two days after I retreat to a room in a large tavern in the city centre, the place unexpectedly lively and teeming with patrons when I first arrive in the early hours of the morning - and after pushing my way unnoticed through the noisy throng to the bar that first night, I soon realise that it would provide a far better cover than the quiet Rook's Roost or another sleepy tavern.

 _Although good cover is apparently an expensive privilege,_ I think irritably as I pace the measly length of my small room on the second day of my voluntarily confinement in the tavern, the cost of the room having drained me of much of my stolen coin along with my patience as I continue to wait for Cicero to return. _Another day, and I'll go back to the Rook's Roost in the hope that the damn fool is waiting for me there - but if he's not, I'm going back to the Sanctuary alone._

The rain eases as the overcast sky begins to darken, and my fear of being caught disappears beneath my desire for a change of scenery and my very real need for coin. _If by some slim chance I walk right into Mercer or another of Lorias' friends, I suppose at least my death will be more exciting than paying to die of boredom in this fucking room,_ I think as I lace up my boots and fasten my daggers and knives in place before pulling on my jacket and tucking my curls beneath my hood.

In the street outside the tavern, I close my eyes for a moment and breathe the fresh night air, the wet wooden scent leaving a strange pang of longing in my stomach. _Although it never rained half as much in Riften as it does here,_ I think wistfully, forgetting the pain attached to the distant city and remembering instead the stonework beside my bed in the Cistern and the prickly feeling of the straw bales in the training room, the sight of Delvin's grin as he laid on his harmless charm, and the way the Ragged Flagon could smell cold and dank one night and be choked with smoke and mead the next. _And the sound of Brynjolf's laughter and the sound of his voice when he told me he didn't want to hear me with another man, when he told me I wasn't a game to him, when he told me he needed to hear me come for him again._

I shake my head, scolding myself for my sentimentalism and remembering I have more pressing concerns than dreaming of the fragments of the broken life I left behind, let alone thinking of the words the auburn-haired thief has spoken to me. _Delvin's charm might have been harmless, but Brynjolf's wasn't,_ I think before I push the thought from my mind and set off down the street, quickly deciding to head towards the house that I abandoned on the night Lorias' friends jumped me, hoping that the absence of the rain and the dim moonlight might make the lock a little easier to pick.

The house is unlit when I study it once more from the nearby alley, my impatience soon spurring me on to slip around the back of the building and through the gardens without any further hesitation. As I approach the closed door, I slip my hand into the pocket of my jacket to retrieve my lockpicks, but when I drop to one knee and begin to work, I frown in confusion when I find the door unlocked. _Maybe the house isn't empty and they're actually asleep inside,_ I think, wondering if I should risk exploring just the ground floor anyway. _Or maybe luck is on my side and they forgot to lock the door when they left._

Deciding to take my chances either way, I return my lockpicks to my pocket and carefully ease open the door, the hinges well-oiled and soundless. I step inside and find myself in a high-ceilinged room, the scent of roses pervading the air and a plush fur rug beneath my muddy boots.

'Fuck,' I murmur, looking around in awe at the exquisitely furnished room through the night's shadows, realising that my previous observations of the house were correct and now wishing that I had brought my satchel to make the most of the loot. _Sapphire and I should've hit this house,_ I think as I step forward to examine an ornament on the table, realising that we could've made a fortune had we stripped bare this room alone. _Although Lorias was probably the Guild's only fence out in this city, and I killed him._

With a quick glance at the furniture and decorations in the room, I surmise that most objects of value are too big to carry through the streets without raising suspicion, and so I head further into the house and pause in a large hallway, remembering my lessons at the Guild and suspecting that a house of this value must have at least one hidden safe somewhere. _Probably upstairs, but I'm not going to risk that,_ I think, as I cast a glance up the sweeping wooden staircase and continue along the hallway, hoping to find a study or another room where I might chance upon some stashed jewellery or coin.

I spy an ajar door past the stairs and I walk forward quickly, my boots silent on the oak flooring; careful not to risk any noise from the hinges, I ease my body around the door and step into the room, thrilled when my gaze lands upon the shadowy shapes of a desk and two chairs ahead of me, beyond which a few tall cabinets stand against the wall. Heavy drapes cover the window on my left and I hesitate a moment as I let my eyes adjust to the darkness - but as I step forward to investigate the desk and the potential treasures within, my heart stops and I suddenly realise I am not alone.

My body frozen in fright, I hold my breath to stay silent as I watch the shadowy hooded figure of a person kneeling behind the desk, their back to me and their hands raised as they evidently work at the locks on one of the cabinets. _Someone got here first,_ I think, hearing the heavy thudding of my heart louder than the soft click of lockpicks, fearing the confrontation that might arise should the thief detect me. _Thieves aren't exactly ones for sharing their prizes._

I am about to back away and concede the loot to the stranger when I notice that the surface of the desk is scattered with a few pieces of jewellery along with a hefty coin purse, evidently emptied from the desk. I clench and relax my fists, trying to fight my urge to walk forward and scoop up some of the treasures before leaving. _I'm standing right here and they haven't realised yet,_ I think, a flicker of power jumping into my nervous heart as my doubt ebbs away. _I killed three men and walked away unharmed; how dangerous could it be to take a few steps forward and lift that coin purse from someone who hasn't even noticed me standing here?_

My body acts before I can fully decide on the best course of action, and I inch forward tentatively, my footsteps light and slow as I approach the desk and chairs. The shadow still does not notice my presence, their attention on the cabinet as they succeed with the lock and a pair of quick hands pull open the glass door with a gentle creak. Sensing my opportunity, I reach forward with both hands and carefully pick up the coin purse from the desk, the weight surprising me but I manage to hold the purse steady and silent as I step backwards, the shadow's attention remaining on the cabinet and seeming entirely oblivious to what I have done.

 _Maybe I am a Nightingale and magically attuned with the shadows after all,_ I think triumphantly, thrilled with my victory - until I turn around too quickly and I trip over the foot of the chair in front of the desk.

I stumble noisily and drop the coin purse in surprise, the weight of the gold hitting the floor with a heavy thud as I swear under my breath on reflex, the sound seeming deafeningly loud in the silence of the house.

Cursing myself louder in my mind, I snatch up the purse from the ground, but I have barely regained my balance and straightened up before I catch sight of movement in the darkness as the thief darts around the desk towards me, evidently aware of my presence at last - and as my eyes strain to adjust to the lack of light, I too become painfully aware of the shadow and its size, finding that the thief is tall and broad-shouldered, and as the shadow moves forward nimbly to block my way to the door, the thief's silhouette and movements suddenly seem oddly familiar.

My heart flashes in fear and I grasp the coin purse tightly in one hand while my other hand drops down to my hip, but before I can reach behind me and draw one of my daggers, the shadow raises its hands in obvious placation.

'Easy, lass, I'm not going to hurt you,' the thief murmurs, the voice male and low and undeniably familiar, the sound sending a shock through me. 'But that gold belongs to me. Hand it over and I'll give you a few coins for your trouble, all right?'

I almost drop the coin purse again as I stare at the dark shape of the hooded thief in front of me, my hands feeling like water and my mind racing as I wonder if I am still trapped in the sentimental illusion of before. _He's in Riften, at the Guild, not here,_ I think in confusion, standing useless and frozen as I struggle to determine whether I am dreaming or simply mistaken - but I have little time to wonder, as the shadow takes advantage of my hesitation and steps forward to close the gap between us, reaching out with one hand to grab my wrist as I hold the coin purse in front of me, and my heart stutters at the contact of the thief's skin on mine.

'The gold, if you don't mind,' he says, the shadows between us seeming thinner and less substantial at our proximity as I stare up at him, finally discerning his face beneath his hood and feeling my heart beat twice as fast with the realisation that I am not dreaming. 'Didn't you ever learn about honour among...'

Suddenly the thief's voice tails off and his body falls completely still as he looks down at me through the darkness, evidently realising the truth of my identity just as I have learnt the truth of his.

'Wren?' he says softly, and the sound of my name in his voice reminds me of the last times I heard him say it in Riften, when we said goodbye, when we were in his bed, when he was buried deep inside me and groaning my name against my lips.

'Brynjolf,' I whisper faintly, but before either of us can say anything more, I hear the unmistakeable sound of footsteps directly above us, and with a jolt in my heart I realise that the inhabitants of the house are neither absent nor sleeping. _And that heavy thud when I dropped the coin purse wouldn't have been easy to ignore,_ I think as I hear the creak of a door opening somewhere in the house and Brynjolf releases my wrist abruptly.

'Shit,' he swears under his breath as he turns around, deftly sweeping the jewellery from the desk and into his pocket before he darts around me and strides across the room towards the curtains. 'Come on, lass.'

As he swiftly pulls apart the heavy drapes to reveal a high glass-paned window, I watch the thief's movements without taking a step myself, my hand still clutching the coin purse and my feet rooted in place with shock. _This isn't real,_ I think distantly, suddenly fighting the urge to cast my healing spell and fill the room with light, needing to prove that my mind is not tricking me and that he is truly here.

'Wren,' the thief hisses, jolting me from my confused reverie, although when I turn around to look at him, I feel twice as disconcerted to find the thief standing outside the window, clearly having already opened and climbed out of it without my realising, his speed swifter than I imagined.

 _Although my imagination isn't that good,_ I think, finally realising that my mind is not tricking me, the dim moonlight from outside catching the red of the thief's hair as I notice a strand escaping from beneath his hood, and as I look at him and he looks back at me, I see one corner of his mouth pull up into his familiar half-smile.

'We haven't got until dawn right now, you know,' he says lightly, and his words coupled with the sound of rushed footsteps echoing loudly down the stairs finally hasten my own feet to move.

I hurry to the window and place the coin purse on the ledge as I hoist myself up and out of the window and into the thief's waiting arms, his hands reaching out to grasp my waist as he lifts me down easily from the window and sets me on the ground before I've had time to even feel my heart flutter at the touch of his hands on my body.

Without a word, the thief turns away and strides down the narrow walkway at the side of the house, and I grab the coin purse from the window ledge before following him, my mind feeling feeling abstract from my body as I hurry behind the thief through a winding street. _I'm in Riften, the familiar wooden scent in the night air, with Grelod's blood on my shoes and the taste of the drunken Nord on my tongue,_ I think, suddenly feeling as if I am following the redhead through the night streets away from the Bee and Barb after I escaped Honorhall, the thief leading me away from my past and towards my future at the Guild. _But there's no Cistern or Guild headquarters in Falkreath for him to lead me to now, and I'm no longer so stupid to believe that I can run from my past._

Fortunately, Brynjolf gives me little time to dwell on my confusing thoughts, leading me away from the house through the darkened city for barely half a minute before he slows his pace and ducks into a narrow empty alley between two tall wooden buildings; as I hasten to catch up with him, he stops abruptly and turns around to look at me, and with my eyes now adjusted to the shadows and the dim clouded moonlight, I know I cannot argue with reality any longer. _It's him, he's really here,_ I think distantly as I look up at him, but I have no time to feel the sudden and strangely expectant knot tightening in my lower stomach before the thief speaks.

'Where the hell are the others?' Brynjolf says sharply as he pushes back his hood, his auburn hair escaping its loose tie at the back of his head. 'Karliah, Sapphire and Rune, why aren't they with you? What the fuck are you doing out here on your own?'

I blink, startled by his questions and the fierce look in his eyes. 'What the fuck are _you_ doing here?' I answer instead as I push back my own hood with one hand, the words spilling from my mouth just as sharply as his own in my confusion. 'Shouldn't you be at the Guild right now, not robbing houses halfway across Skyrim? Houses that _I_ was going to rob,' I add pointedly for good measure, my heart fluttering fast as the angry look in Brynjolf's eyes suddenly diminishes and the corner of his mouth pulls up into a familiar half-smile at my words.

'Talking of which,' he says, nodding at the coin purse still in my hands. 'That gold's mine, lass.'

'I don't think so,' I say, clutching the purse tighter against my chest. 'I'm the one holding it, aren't I?'

'So you really haven't ever heard of honour among thieves?' Brynjolf counters. 'I picked the locks, Wren. You just walked in and collected my hard-earned winnings.'

'Honour among thieves?' I repeat sarcastically, my heart jumping to hear my name in his voice again. 'Like you wouldn't have done the same as me if you had the chance.'

He laughs a quick brief laugh, the sound only heightening the nerves in my heart and stomach. 'Well, yes, but I wouldn't have got caught doing it.' He steps forward suddenly, starting to close the gap between us. 'But I caught you, lass. And what do you think I'm going to do with you now?'

The knot in my lower stomach tightens abruptly with his closer proximity. 'You said you weren't going to hurt me,' I remind him, suddenly feeling a little short of breath.

'No, I wasn't planning on hurting you,' Brynjolf says as he takes another step forward and stops directly in front of me, close enough to grasp my waist and pull me into his arms, although the thief remains perfectly still and does not move to touch me. 'Guess again.'

'You'll give me a few coins for my trouble?' I suggest mockingly.

'As you pointed out, you're already holding all the coins, lass,' he says, another smile playing across his mouth. 'Do you want one last guess?'

I look at him and he looks back at me in silence for a few moments as I try and fail to reply, my tongue suddenly feeling tied in my mouth. _I don't want to talk, I don't want to tell him why I'm here alone or any of the things I have done since I left his bed, I only want to make sure he is real and what I felt with him was real_ _too_ _,_ I realise, and before I can think further, my hands release the coin purse and I let it fall to the ground between us with a dull thud as I throw myself into Brynjolf's arms.

The thief reacts before I even have a chance to properly wrap my arms around his neck, his hands grasping my waist and pulling me against him, snaking his own arms swiftly around my body to lock us close together; I cling to his shoulders as I press my face against his chest, feeling the solid shape of him, catching the faint scent of the worn leather of his Guild armour and realising that he is neither an illusion nor a memory. _He's here,_ I think as I close my eyes and hold onto Brynjolf tightly, hearing him breathe in deeply with his mouth and nose buried in my hair; my heart inexplicably lifts at the sound of his inhalation and the warmth of his breath as he exhales slowly, my frustration and fear of the past few weeks ebbing away as steadily as his breathing as I lean against his body with his arms securely around me.

'Fuck, Wren,' he murmurs, his voice hitched and half-lost in my curls, his words a frustrated groan and a relieved whisper at once.

I cling to him tighter, waiting for him to continue, waiting for a charming line to fall from the thief's mouth, but after a few seconds of silence, I realise that Brynjolf is for once speechless. _Because of me,_ I realise with a strange sense of awareness. _Just as I silenced Lorias' friends in the alley._

I breathe in deeply, my mind racing to comprehend the truth that I can both hurt and be held and still render a man equally powerless. _Is my kiss as sharp and dangerous as my dagger?_ I wonder briefly before the thought of kissing Brynjolf again consumes my mind and I forget entirely about the men I killed in the alley, my blood warming suddenly for a different reason.

I pull my head back, the redhead's arms trapping me close to his body as I stretch onto my toes and tilt my head upwards to find his mouth with mine, touching my lips to his briefly, tentatively - although I pull back instinctively before I can even consider the action a true kiss, the memory of how I last used my mouth suddenly forcing itself into my mind. _The last part of a man I kissed was Lorias' cock, I shouldn't want any of this,_ I think as I look at Brynjolf, the darkness dulling the emerald of his eyes and shadowing his features, my nerves tricking me until I almost convince myself I am looking up at Mercer, at my pain, at my sheer stupidity and weakness; but as I stare back at the auburn-haired thief, our mouths only inches apart, I realise the undeniable glimmer of desire in his gaze is only part of what burns in his eyes. _It's not like Lorias or Mercer, it's not pleasure in my fear or hesitation or weakness,_ I think as I try to deduce the expression on Brynjolf's face, soon realising that the look in his eyes matches how Sapphire looked when she said she should've killed Mercer before he hurt me, how Karliah looked when I agreed to become a Nightingale, and how Rune looked when he offered to come with me to the Sanctuary. _Like they would kill for me, like they need me, like they would give me whatever I asked._

My fear suddenly vanishes and I lean closer to kiss Brynjolf again, my lips firmer against his as I close my eyes and my hands slip around the back of the thief's neck, pulling him down to answer the request of my mouth - and Brynjolf seems to need no further encouragement to answer my request, one of his hands tangling in my hair and tilting my head back as he leans down to kiss me deeply, his lips gently urging my mouth open a second later, just wide enough to let his tongue trace slowly over my parted lips before slipping inside my mouth.

Distantly I hear him groan as our tongues touch, but the heat of my blood flooding my veins dulls my hearing as the nerves inside me spike abruptly, the sensation far from unpleasant. _The opposite,_ I think vaguely, curling my fingers into Brynjolf's hair as I part my lips wider and kiss him back harder – and when the thief breaks apart after only a few seconds, I cannot help but whine quietly in frustration as he moves instead to lay brief light kisses over my jaw, one of his hands burying in my hair to keep my head still as I try in vain to capture his mouth again.

'Fuck, I missed you,' he murmurs, his voice low as he kisses the side of my face, the unshaven stubble over his jaw tickling my heated skin as his mouth moves quickly towards my ear. 'Every time I walked through the Cistern, every time I closed my eyes, every time I lay in that gods damned bed-' Brynjolf stops abruptly, his lips at my hairline, and I hear him breathe in again, deeper, undeniably taking in my scent. 'I was a fucking idiot,' he mutters before he exhales. 'I should've gone with you, or I should've made you stay, gods, I shouldn't have just-'

'Stop talking,' I say sharply as I pull back my head and look at him squarely, not wanting to hear him speak, not caring that he let me leave Riften or whether he regrets his decision not to convince me to stay. _If he never let me go, I'd still be in his bed and far from Astrid,_ I think, although in that moment, my desire to see the blonde assassin dead seems like little more than a distant dream. _Brynjolf was nothing more than a distant dream too, until now._ 'Just be quiet and kiss me again.'

Brynjolf raises an eyebrow at the bluntness of my words, although I see a small smile forming at his mouth with my command. 'Wren, I was trying to tell you-'

I pull his head down and silence his open mouth with my own, my tongue searching desperately for his as warmth floods through my body - although I can do little more than gasp against his tongue as Brynjolf suddenly grabs my waist and lifts me from the ground easily, not breaking the contact of our mouths as he walks forward and presses me up against the damp wooden wall of the building behind me, crowding my body with his and invading my mouth with his tongue as desperately as I kissed him, seemingly no longer desiring to tell me anything with words.

 _I don't know about my kiss, but his is dangerous enough,_ I think distantly, my blood racing pleasurably hot through my veins as I match the hunger of the thief's lips and tongue with my own, feeling my body shiver in expectation when one of his hands drops to my thigh and he hoists my leg to hook around his hip before leaning his body closer against mine.

My fingers knot tighter in his hair as our mouths grow wet with our impatience and my awareness of my body heightens sharply, the sensation of the thief's solid strong body in front and the unyielding wall behind me suddenly fading to the back of my mind as I feel the hard shape of his cock pressing between my legs.

I moan quietly against his mouth as desire floods my body and my hips rise instinctively, trying to work myself against his hardness. I hear Brynjolf make a growl of frustration in his throat and he presses his groin against me deliberately, the contact through our clothing sending shocks of pleasure deep through my body. _Mercer took me in an alley, up against the wall,_ I think somewhere in my mind beneath the urgency of my desire, my back arching away from the wall and my leg wrapping around the thief tighter to better feel his body against mine, remembering what had happened with Mercer in the dark snowy Windhelm alley and wanting Brynjolf to do the same, wanting Brynjolf to do _more,_ wanting him in a way that I forgot was possible.

The thief, however, seems to have different intentions, and with another hitched groan he breaks apart from my mouth, his broad shoulders rising and falling heavily as he looks at me, the wildfire in his eyes reminding me of his gaze as he looked down at me in his bed with our bodies joined. 'We need to go somewhere else, Wren,' he says, his voice low and edged as his fingers dig into my thigh. 'Unless you'd like me to strip us both naked here and give everyone in Falkreath a show.'

My own breathing quickened and my mind distracted, I look for the laughter in his eyes and find only a flash of impatient desire. 'You wouldn't do that,' I say, although I wish he would, not caring what anyone might see or hear if he did as he threatened.

'Considering this is Falkreath, it would probably start raining the moment we took off our clothes,' Brynjolf says, surprising me with his pragmatic answer, until he leans close and presses his mouth against my neck just below my ear. 'And all this mud we would get us filthy, lass,' the thief says softly as he kisses the delicate skin where my pulse throbs most urgently. 'And wet,' he murmurs in my ear before he licks at my skin just below my earlobe, the sound of the word in his voice sending a sharp ache through my lower stomach.

Before I can find his mouth to kiss him or I can rock my hips against him to make my desire known again, the thief unhooks my leg from around him and lowers me back to the ground, releasing my body and stepping backwards swiftly out of my reach.

'Please, lass,' he says as I force myself to keep my balance, my legs unsteady as my heartbeat. 'I need to see you in the light, and somewhere warm, where you'll be shivering because of what I'm doing to you rather than the cold and rain.' He quickly pulls his hood back over his hair and holds out his hand towards me, the look in his eyes brighter and fiercer than before as he looks at me through the shadows for several seconds. 'Now, Wren,' he says finally, his voice lower and harder and enough to make my body obey his command without thinking.

I step forward and take his hand, and Brynjolf walks towards the entrance to the alley without another word as I hurry alongside him, the thief slowing his step to enable me to keep pace with his longer strides. We do not speak as I let him lead me through the streets, not caring where he intends to go and not caring to have him answer any of the questions that flutter in the very back of my mind. _We might only have until dawn again, and I have no desire to spend that time talking._

It's only a short while later that my awareness sharpens beyond my heady desire and my surroundings start to seem familiar, forcing me to realise with a jolt of unease where Brynjolf is leading me. _But I killed Lorias and his friends,_ I think, using my free hand to pull my hood over my head as I walk with Brynjolf towards the Gravesend tavern, my legs suddenly unsteady for a different reason when I recall the one Nord who survived and may still be here. _What if he recognises me and confronts me? What if Brynjolf finds out what I did to Lorias? Will he think less of me? Will he be furious at how_ _I_ _have jeopardised the Guild?_

My longing for the thief dulling beneath my sudden unease, I keep my head down as Brynjolf releases my hand and holds the door to the tavern open for me, the hum of the patrons inside startling me as I step forward and fight the urge to look around. Brynjolf follows me inside and takes my hand once more, and as he leads me through the tavern towards the private rooms, I link my fingers tightly with his and keep my gaze to the floor, hoping that luck is on my side and that the Nord man will not be here. _But if not him, maybe someone else here recognises me from the night I killed Lorias,_ I think, trying to convince myself that the patrons of two weeks ago surely are not here now, trying to forget everything about that night - but as we leave the main hall of the tavern and I realise that Brynjolf is leading me down the hallway towards Lorias' room, I start to wonder what happened to the Imperial's body and whether Brynjolf is going to take me to the same room, the same bed, whether he will touch me there where I kissed the Imperial's cock and buried his dagger in his throat. _Gods, what if his corpse is still there, with my cut binding on the floor and my blood mingled with his on the bed sheets?_ I think wildly, my mind racing as fast as my heart - but to my intense relief a few seconds later, Brynjolf leads me past Lorias' room and to the spiral staircase at the end of the hallway, the noise of the tavern soon fading to a distant hum as I hurry behind him up the stairs, more than glad to be away from my memories and from any chance of being recognised. _It never happened, and Brynjolf will never know._

Upstairs, the thief crosses the narrow hallway to one of the closed doors and withdraws a key from his pocket, unlocking the door swiftly and pushing it open for me. I do not meet the thief's gaze as I walk into the small room, the place similarly furnished to the room where I took Lorias' life, although a fire burns brightly in the hearth. _And the bed is empty, for now,_ I think, my legs quivering as I take the last few steps into the room, my relief overcome by a sudden anticipation and the realisation that we are now alone. _And I'm safe,_ I think, hearing the quiet click of the lock as Brynjolf follows me into the room and closes the door behind him, and I turn around slowly to face him, pushing back my hood for the final time as Brynjolf does the same.

For a moment, we look at each other in silence, my mind feeling slightly dizzy as I study the thief in the firelight, the warm glow of the fire catching both the brightness in his eyes and illuminating the tired shadows beneath them, reminding me suddenly of how he looked the first time we met, drunk and young and yet older and worn - and my heart aches keenly with renewed desire, longing to trace my fingertips over the silver-white scar on his cheek, to kiss the freckles that I know dust his broad shoulders and back, to bury my hands in his red hair and draw his mouth to mine. _To feel his bare skin against mine, and to relive those moments when I had nothing to think of but my pleasure._

I watch the thief's shoulders rise and fall deeply as he breathes out a slow sigh. 'I half-convinced myself it wasn't really you,' he says softly, not moving to close the gap between us.

'Only half-convinced?' I repeat lightly, wanting to hear him laugh. 'But you're usually very convincing.'

The redhead obliges my desire, laughing a quick low laugh at my words. 'Not convincing enough, lass.' His gaze flickers over me slowly, my skin warming with his careful study of my body. 'Besides, you look different without your Guild armour, you know.'

'That was kind of the point,' I say teasingly, although this time he does not laugh.

'Why?' he says, a small frown of confusion pulling at his brow.

I hesitate, not wanting to tell him that his Guild associate recognised me before I killed him, nor that my work with the Brotherhood requires me to distance myself and my loyalty from the Thieves Guild. _Nor that I think Mercer is nearby and I don't want to make his game to find me any easier._ 'One of the guards here saw me when I was robbing a house and new clothes seemed like an easy disguise,' I lie with a careless shrug of my shoulders before I suddenly feel the need to confess my attachment to the discarded clothing. 'But I still have the armour,' I add quickly. 'It's with my other things, in my room I'm renting here in the city. I didn't... I didn't want to throw it away. It.. well, it reminds me of the Guild,' I finish lamely, the words tripping ungainly from my mouth. 'And I... miss it. The Guild, I mean. Not my armour.'

Brynjolf does not comment on my awkward words as I lapse into silence. 'Speaking for the Guild, it's missed you too,' he says evenly, inclining his head slightly as he looks at me, the firelight catching the emerald gleam in his eyes. 'And far more than you know, Wren.'

I feel my heart skitter in my chest as I hold his gaze, the questions I want to ask lingering on the tip of my tongue and yet I find I have no urgency to ask them now. _What does it matter how, or why, or for how long?_ I think, realising that in this moment, it matters only that he is here. _And I have chosen to be here too, with him._

'Will you kiss me again?' I ask the thief, suddenly not knowing how to request his touch. _I never had to seduce, I only had to beg._

One corner of Brynjolf's mouth pulls up into a half-smile. 'Aye, lass,' he says, stepping forward at last to close the space between us, his green eyes gleaming. 'And far more than that, too, if you'd like.'

'I'd like-' I start to agree, but the thief pulls me into his arms and his mouth covers mine in a hard kiss before I have finished speaking, and as I close my eyes and return his kiss, I forget entirely about saying another word.

I part my lips wider against Brynjolf's mouth, whimpering quietly in pleasure as I am rewarded with his quick tongue. As the thief's hands grasp at my waist, I run my own hands over his chest and shoulders, my fingers tracing the buckles and worn leather pieces of his Guild armour, feeling a strange deep longing in my stomach that has little to do with my desire, my need for his touch overwhelmed by a sudden sense of relief. _It's like coming home._

I deepen our kiss as Brynjolf's hands move to the open edges of my jacket, gently pushing the material back from my shoulders to expose my shirt and bodice; the thief's efforts slow and cautious, I feel my impatience rising until I pull away from his mouth and let go of his body, wrenching my arms free from my jacket myself and throwing the garment messily to the floor before reaching up to kiss him eagerly again.

I feel Brynjolf's smile against my lips, although my attention is distracted when I feel his skilled fingers trace over the laces of my bodice, no doubt determining the easiest way to handle the fastenings. _He could cut my clothing from me like Lorias and Mercer and I wouldn't care,_ I think, my quickened breathing suddenly feeling constricted by both my bodice and the thief's touch, although my frustration only rises faster when he leaves the laces tied and his hands move instead around my body to my spine, caressing my back and pulling me closer against him before his hands move lower to the small of my back and he swiftly unbuckles the fastenings that hold my daggers at my hips.

The quiet thud as Brynjolf drops the blades onto my jacket on the floor reminds me suddenly of the sound of the coin purse hitting the floor in the house we both sought to rob – although the thought nearly slips from my mind when the thief's tongue licks deeply at mine at the same moment that his hands slide down over my hips to cup my ass, my breath catching in my throat as I break apart from his mouth a second later.

'We left the gold in the alley,' I say faintly, trying to straighten my thoughts as I look up at him, my lips tingling from his kiss. 'The coin purse we stole from the house, I dropped it in the alley and we didn't bring it back.'

Brynjolf laughs softly, his eyes glittering. 'Aye, but I came away with the only thing I really wanted,' he says as he leans in to lay another kiss on my lips before he releases his hold on my body abruptly. 'And you're worth a lot more than a handful of coins, you know.'

Before I can answer, the thief drops down to his knees in front of me, his hands trailing down my thighs to the tops of my leather boots, the touch of his hands warming my skin even through my cloth leggings.

'So charming,' I manage to say sardonically, my nerves heightening as I recall what happened the last time he knelt before me and I feel a sudden tightness in my lower stomach. 'How much am I worth, then? _Two_ coin purses?'

'You think I can put a price on you?' Brynjolf looks up at me with a smile as his hands grasp my left thigh, his fingers toying with the laces of my boot. 'Lass, there isn't a price. It'd be like saying the starlight can be measured in coins.'

I force back an exasperated laugh, his charm seeming laid thick even in my desire. 'Starlight?' I repeat flippantly. 'Is starlight worth anything?'

'To a thief? It's worth everything.' The redhead looks back down as his fingers start to make short work of the boot laces. 'In the dead of night, it gives just enough light to show your prize, and just enough shadow to hide you while you take that prize.' He glances up at me briefly, a charming smile at his mouth before his gaze returns to the work of his hands. 'And the stars are beautiful, Wren, more beautiful than...'

His voice tails off as he loosens the leather of my boot away from my leg to reveal the small steel knife strapped to my thigh. _At least I cleaned the blade after I used it to kill those men,_ I think suddenly, although the thought slips mercifully from my mind as the thief's fingertips trace over the leather straps holding the knife to my leg.

'How many more of these do you have hidden on you, lass?' Brynjolf says softly, his green eyes flickering back up to mine.

'Two,' I answer, my voice weakened and my heart jumping with the prospect of him finding my other knives.

The thief breathes a quiet laugh. 'You may be as beautiful as the stars but you're far more deadly,' he says, not taking his eyes from mine as he frees the blade from my thigh and drops it onto the floor with my other daggers. 'So am I in danger right now, starlight? Here I am on my knees before you, and you might be about to cut my throat.'

'I'd never do that to you,' I say, the words falling from my mouth sharper than I intend, remembering the throats I have cut and feeling a bitter twinge at my own scarred neck. _Torn throats, blood and death, they've haunted my past and they haunt my path ahead,_ I think, desperate to cling to this moment in between the past and the future, when I am not an assassin ready to strike, nor a foolish little girl wanting vengeance. _And I don't care if my kiss truly is as deadly as my dagger, I just want to be kissed, and to kiss, because it feels good._

Brynjolf's eyes flash darkly with pain at my words as he looks up at me. 'And no one will ever do that to you again,' he says quietly, his voice hard and low as he looks back down and he resumes unlacing my boot, his fingers quicker than before as they work the laces open over my knee and down my shin. 'Never, Wren.'

I do not speak as Brynjolf swiftly finishes unlacing the ties and pulls off my boot a few seconds later, tossing it aside before his attention moves to my other leg, where he wastes no time in handling the bootlaces and peeling the leather open. At the sight of the second knife at my thigh, I see the thief's mouth curve into a small smile, although he says nothing as he discards both my blade and my boot with the rest, before he rises to stand in front of me once more.

I pull him close and kiss him again, my fingers latching on to the fastenings of his jacket in an attempt to undress him - although I make little progress and my mind is distracted as the thief's hands slide upwards over my waist and towards my chest.

'Am I getting warmer, lass?' Brynjolf murmurs against my mouth as he gently cups my breasts before his fingers slip to the fastenings of my bodice, his touch stealing my breath as if he is tightening the laces rather than loosening them. 'I've still got one more blade to find, haven't I?'

'You're close,' I say, suspecting he has already determined where I have hidden the final knife.

Brynjolf offers no answer beyond laying another kiss on my open mouth, his tongue teasing mine as skilfully as his fingers work the laces between my breasts. I hear him make a quiet sound of satisfaction in his throat a few seconds later, and he breaks apart from my lips as he withdraws the third knife from the opened material of my bodice.

'Now you're slightly less deadly,' he murmurs, his eyes gleaming as he toys with the blade between our bodies. 'And yet still just as beautiful. How do you manage that?'

I do my best to ignore his charm as I reach up to take the knife from his grasp, dropping it carelessly to the floor before I lower my hands to his hip and quickly start to unfasten his own glass dagger. 'How many more of these do _you_ have hidden on you, Brynjolf?' I ask, my fingers trembling over the dagger's sheathe and my mouth feeling dry when I notice the distinct shape of the thief's cock through his trousers and I quickly look up to meet his gaze, finding his green eyes bright with both laughter and desire.

'You're asking if I have a hidden dagger on my person, are you?' he says lightly as I manage to free the thief's glass blade and let it fall to the floor onto my jacket. 'Don't ask a man that when you're standing before him with half your laces undone, lass. You might get an answer you weren't expecting.'

'And what answer is that?' I say, although Brynjolf does not seem inclined to reply with words, as he moves closer to me again and reaches out to cup the back of my head with one hand, his fingers threading deeply in my hair before he tilts my head back and leans down to kiss me roughly, his lips pushing mine apart to allow his tongue entrance.

I kiss him back breathlessly, clinging to his chest as I feel his other hand run down the centre of my bodice, the laces seeming to melt away beneath his fingers. A moment later, he releases my hair and pulls open the pieces of my bodice before grabbing the hem of my shirt underneath, and I'm only just quick enough to let go of his body and raise my arms before the thief tugs both garments up and over my head in one swift motion and discards them to the floor.

Having not replaced my binding since Lorias cut it from my body and now standing before Brynjolf naked from the waist up, I shiver in both anticipation and nerves, half-wishing I had another layer for him to remove. _And yet the other half of me wants to have no clothes between us at all,_ I realise, as the thief's gaze falls not on my naked breasts but on the circular tarnished amulet resting between them, and a strange flicker of a smile crosses his face as he raises his right hand to touch the necklace.

'It's cold,' he says as his fingers trace delicately over the engraved Nightingale symbol, his gaze one of almost childlike curiosity.

I frown slightly at his words, suddenly realising that I have not felt the amulet's chill since leaving the Twilight Sepulcher. _Or I've just got used to it already, as if it has always been a part of me._ 'It's not so bad,' I say, before a second realisation dawns on me and I reach up to the necklace, pulling it from Brynjolf's fingers and lifting it over my head. _This is for me, not a daedric prince or my revenge,_ I think as I reach down to lay the amulet on my clothing on the floor, deciding that I do not want to be a Nightingale in these moments, nor a murderer, nor a thief, nor a scarred and broken little bird. _Maybe there's nothing else left of me when you take those things away, but I'll willingly be nothing if it meant_ _forgetting the rest for a while._

Not wanting to think any further, I reach down to unlace the ties of my leggings, although I have to force my hands to continue their task as my fingers brush over the raised scar below my navel. _This isn't Mercer now,_ I remind myself as I quickly push both my leggings and my smallclothes down my legs before I finally kick my feet free of the last of my clothing. Feeling goosebumps rise over my exposed skin, I look up hesitantly to meet Brynjolf's gaze again, suddenly needing to reassure myself that it is really him, that I am not standing before Lorias as I did two weeks ago, and that I am not standing before Mercer as I did so many times. _And this won't hurt._

The thief in front of me says nothing for a moment as his gaze flickers over my body, although I see his eyes darken and his jaw harden as he stares for a moment at the shadowmark carved on my lower stomach before his gaze sweeps upwards over the rest of my body. Suddenly conscious of not only my nakedness but the further evidence of my defencelessness, I quickly fold my arms across my body to hide the Imperial's scar on my ribs, wondering if Brynjolf has already noticed it and whether he considers me weak for letting another person scar me again. _And what scar will he leave on me?_ I think as the redhead's gaze moves past my breasts to the torn skin at my neck and the look in his eyes deepens into bitter regret before he looks up to meet my own eyes.

'You all right, lass?' he says, his voice strangely flat and almost choked, his words half a question and half an assurance, as if he is trying to convince himself of their truth.

'Yes,' I say, his voice reassuringly familiar despite his unusual tone, reminding me well enough who he is and who he isn't. 'Are _you_ all right, Brynjolf?' I add teasingly, nerves fluttering in my stomach as the thief's mouth curves into a smile.

'I'm better now,' he says, his shoulders rising and falling with a slow sigh. 'Fucking gods, Wren, how is it possible that you've become even more beautiful than you were four weeks ago?'

I cannot help but smile too, his charm as comfortingly familiar as the lilt of his voice - but before I can think of something to say, Brynjolf steps forward and lifts his hand to my head, brushing my curls back from my face before he cups my cheek.

'And there it is,' he says softly, his thumb tracing over my skin as I unfold my arms from between our bodies and rest my hands on his chest. 'Gods, I've thought about your smile since the day you left.'

'Is that really all you've thought about?' I say lightly, revelling in the thief's quick laugh at my words.

'No, lass, and I won't tell you all those other things I've thought about since you left,' he says as his other hand slips around my bare waist, his skin warm against mine. 'I'd rather you still think of me as a gentleman.'

'What if I already know you're not a gentleman?' I say with another smile.

'Then I suppose it's too late to change your mind,' Brynjolf answers, taking his hand from my cheek. 'In which case, I might as well do what I've thought about doing to you for weeks.' Before I can ask him to elaborate, he leans down and lifts me easily off the floor and into his arms, my hands grasping his shoulders for purchase as my heart skips a beat with the suddenness of his movements. 'And these four weeks have never felt so long in my life,' he says, turning around and carrying me to the bed, the leather buckles of his armour rubbing against my skin as he cradles me close to his body. 'So don't judge me by tonight, lass. I wanted to draw this out for as long as possible, but what little patience I had disappeared about five minutes ago, you know.'

'Then take off your-' I start to say, although my words never make it fully from my mouth, as Brynjolf steps up to the bed and drops me down onto the furs as unceremoniously as he did in his room at the Guild. At my disgruntled sound of protest, the thief laughs and he lifts his quick hands to begin unfastening his own jacket at last.

'You didn't want gentlemanly,' he reminds me, his eyes glimmering as I scramble to sit upright. 'I think you wanted me to kiss you, didn't you?' A few moments later, he throws his jacket aside and leans down over the bed, reaching out to grasp my bare waist with both hands. 'But I don't recall you saying where, lass.'

Before I can feel the expectant jolt in my lower stomach with the implication of his words, Brynjolf lifts me from the furs again and I find myself repositioned sitting on the edge of the bed, my bare feet touching the worn wooden floorboards as the thief drops down to his knees in front of me. His eyes hold mine as his warm hands slide over my thighs before he grasps my knees a second later and he gently parts my legs.

'Brynjolf-' I start, anticipation flooding through me and the cold air tingling at the warmth between my legs, although his name escapes my lips as little more than a breathy sigh and I hear the redhead make a sound of frustration in his throat.

'Saying my name like that isn't going to help my patience,' he says, his voice harder and his fingers digging into my skin as he hooks my legs over his shoulders one at a time before his hands slip upwards to grasp at my hips. The thief looks up at me, the hungry fire in his eyes almost startling me with its intensity. 'Lie back,' he commands sharply.

I open my mouth to make a demand of my own and order him to remove his clothes first, but Brynjolf gives me no time to obey his command, let alone make one myself; his hands move over my hips and up to my waist, pushing my body gently but firmly back to the furs behind me, and against the strength of his arms and the sudden weakness in my own limbs, I can do nothing but lean back until I am half-lying on the bed, my arms moving instinctively to prop myself on my elbows.

Brynjolf's hands slip back down to my hips, tilting my lower body up from the furs as he adjusts his own position on his knees to bring himself closer to me, leaning forward to kiss his way upwards over the inside of my legs until his mouth reaches the juncture of my thighs, and without another word and only a brief glance up at me, he lowers his head between my legs.

I hear him groan in satisfaction as he presses his mouth to my core, although my sharp intake of breath is louder, and a moment later I hear little else beyond the rush of blood in my ears as the thief opens his mouth and I feel his tongue touch me warm and wet.

His fingers grip the soft flesh of my hips as he tastes me, kisses alternating with searching licks of his tongue until a whining impatient sound escapes me unbidden a few moments later, my heightened desire pushing aside what nerves I had remaining and leaving only intense urgent need. Brynjolf seems to heed my wordless request and ceases his teasing, focusing his attention instead on the source of my sensitivity as he presses his tongue firmly against my clit and my whine of impatience turns to a gasp of pleasure.

I hear him make another sound of satisfaction in his throat as the muscles in my lower body tense, my thighs gripping his head instinctively to hold the thief in place as the firm licks of his tongue swiftly work my warm desire into deep pleasure - and in mere moments, I become violently aware of the unspent tension in my body, lingering sensitive and unreleased since the night I lay in his bed four weeks ago. _And it feels four times as good as I remember,_ I think distantly as I look down at his auburn-haired head between my legs, my breath suddenly catching in my throat as I realise how I am letting a man render me powerless instead of the other way around. _And how I don't seem to care in the slightest._

'Bryn,' I whimper, almost afraid of the pleasure inside me as if I have never felt it before, but the thief only growls in frustration, his mouth and tongue working more hungrily against my core as one of his hands releases its hold on my hip to instead drop down to his own body, his quick fingers swiftly loosening the ties of his trousers before his hand slips down beneath the material and I hear the thief make another groan, this time one of relief.

His gaze flickers up to meet mine, my breathing shortening and heat rising faster in my cheeks when I see the fierce desire in his green eyes, the movement of his arm as quick and purposed as his tongue at my core as his hand works himself in his trousers. I am about to try to catch my breath and suggest that I handle that task for him when the thief breaks our gaze and his tongue moves down, laying kisses and wide licks at my entrance before his tongue slips inside me to taste me properly.

I feel myself try to tighten around him, to cling to the source of my pleasure as desperately as my fingers twist into the furs on the bed - but my body's attention is directed elsewhere only seconds later, when his free hand slips from my hip and down my stomach to my core, his thumb starting to press firm circles over my clit as his tongue works hungrily inside me.

I let my arms give way beneath my body, no longer trying to keep myself propped half-upright, and I lie back against the covers with a hitched moan of pleasure as I lose myself to the feeling. My legs grip the thief tighter by the second as I chase my satisfaction, distantly hearing him chase his own satisfaction by the skill of his hand, and somewhere through my growing pleasure I start to register that he is going to finish both of us before I have even seen him, or touched him, or felt him inside me. _I want to watch him come for me, and I can't do that when all I can think of is my own pleasure._

'Stop,' I manage to say weakly, although the thief either does not hear me or does not care to relent, and at the mercy of his skilled tongue and touch, I almost forget my intention to make him stop. _But if he doesn't stop, I won't be able to either,_ I think, drawing a deep breath before I start to force myself to sit upright, trying to move my legs off from his shoulders. 'Brynjolf, stop.'

The redhead breaks away as I manage to pull my body to a sitting position and his hands swiftly leave their respective tasks to instead grab my thighs tightly, holding my legs in place on his shoulders as he looks up at me. 'Fuck, lass, don't make me stop now,' he says, his voice rougher than I have heard it before and his eyes flashing dangerously. 'Let me fucking finish you.'

He ducks his head and lays wet licking kisses over my lower stomach, working his way swiftly back down over my flushed skin and the raised scar below my navel, although the touch of his mouth at the shadowmark only causes me to feel more determined to make him listen to me as I reach down to bury my hands in his hair.

'Brynjolf,' I say firmly, pulling his head back from between my legs and forcing him to look up at me, although as our eyes meet and I see the impatient gleam in his green irises, I find myself compelled to draw him closer rather than push him away, to hold him here indefinitely, drawn in by the fire in his eyes and his utter determination to see me satisfied, to make me feel good and to take his pleasure of me too. _And if this is powerlessness, then I don't mind being weak._ 'I need you inside me,' I whisper, my fingers curling in the auburn strands of his hair. 'Please, Brynjolf.'

The thief holds my gaze silently for several long seconds, his grip on my legs relaxing and the bright fire in his eyes now lit by something other than impatience, as if he is fighting with himself to either ignore or obey me. 'All right, lass,' he murmurs eventually, his hands gentle as he eases my legs from his shoulders, letting my feet rest on the floor before taking my hands away from his hair and abruptly rising to his own feet. 'But I feel like I should point out, my tongue is a part of me too,' he continues, his voice lighter as he kicks off his boots while his hands quickly loosen the ties of his shirt. 'So you might want to be clearer about which part of me you'd like inside you next.'

I laugh half in exasperation and half in relief as he pulls off his shirt and throws it aside, my gaze racing eagerly over his bare upper body. 'Can't you use your imagination?' I say teasingly, my thighs instinctively pressing tight together as I watch his hands drop to his already unfastened trousers and I feel an expectant jolt of pleasurable anticipation in my lower stomach.

'I've been using my imagination a lot since you left my bed, Wren, and quite frankly, both my imagination and my arm are pretty fucking tired,' Brynjolf says with a grin, pushing down his trousers and pulling them from his legs until he stands naked in front of me at last.

I feel my heart beat faster and my warm cheeks flush brighter as my gaze flickers down to his cock, the hard size of him daunting me as it did the first time I saw him - although in that silent moment as I look at him, I realise that my nerves are underwritten by a fierce uncontrollable desire to drop down to my knees before the thief and take him in my mouth, to wrap my lips around his cock and to feel him grab my hair tightly, to hear him groan for me again and to taste his pleasure warm on my tongue as he takes his enjoyment of me. _I want to see him fall apart to my touch, and to piece him back together afterwards._

Seemingly oblivious to my sudden desire, Brynjolf steps up to me and reaches out with both hands to my head, stroking my hair gently. 'Gods but you're so much better than my imagination,' he says softly, and before I can find the words to voice my thoughts, he leans down to kiss me deeply, his tongue leaving my taste in my mouth with the eagerness of him kiss - and I kiss him back just as eagerly, feeling my desire between my legs wet and warm as our mouths and knowing then that I cannot wait any longer.

Dizzy and short of breath, I break apart from his lips and wriggle backwards on the bed, grabbing Brynjolf's arms and pulling him down on top of me - although I hardly have to drag the thief down to the furs with me, as he climbs onto the bed and rejoins our mouths hungrily as he moves to lean over my body. My legs wrap instinctively around his hips as I grip his shoulders, although Brynjolf resists my attempts to draw him closer, instead holding himself above me with a careful distance between our bodies.

'Say yes, lass,' he murmurs as I make a sound of frustration in my throat. 'I need to hear it, always.'

'Yes,' I say impatiently, and this time the thief allows me to pull him closer with my legs and hands, leaning his body down against mine and kissing me deeply again.

I moan quietly into his mouth, my fingers scrambling over the breadth of his shoulders to try to bring his body closer still as my back arches and my hips rise instinctively to his - and yet when the thief adjusts his position and I feel his hard cock press between my legs, my body abruptly tenses in spite of my desire, and a nervous chill cuts through me as I lie beneath the thief's body. _Maybe our night together was just dream, or maybe everything he said meant nothing and he will break me like the others did,_ I think, suddenly unable to recall how good it feels to finish and remembering only how it hurts to start. _And how the last time I had a man's cock anywhere near me, he would've killed me if I hadn't done it first._

Brynjolf evidently feels my body's sudden hesitation too, and he pulls away swiftly from my mouth. 'I was only joking about my imagination, you know,' he murmurs as he adjusts his hips again to allow his length to rest between our stomachs. 'If you'd rather I just imagine being inside you, Wren, I can do that. I'll do whatever you want, and however you want it.' He leans back down to lay a brief kiss on my lips, his hair falling forward to tickle the sides of my face. 'And whenever you want it,' he says softly as he pulls away, his eyes burning brightly into mine. 'Because four weeks is nothing, lass. I'd wait a lifetime for you.'

He does not move or say anything more, and I look up at him equally still and silent for several seconds, until my hands move of their own accord, sliding over his freckled shoulders and up his neck to his head, tucking his hair gently behind his ears as I remember how it felt to look up at him like this when I last lay beneath his naked body. _It felt good,_ I remember, knowing it to be the truth, before I suddenly think of the other truths that I know I cannot deny either. _Mercer will find me, I will face Astrid alone, and the chances are that one of them will kill me,_ I think as I stare up at Brynjolf, the chill in my body fading beneath the warm proximity of his body. _But what happens now is not inevitable, and this is not forced upon me._

With my other hand still in his hair, I reach down between our bodies to grasp his cock, feeling the hard heat of him against my palm and hearing his hitched intake of breath as I part my legs wider and guide him back to my core. 'I want you,' I say, rocking my hips under him to work myself gently against his cock, the thief's quiet groan matching my own gasp of pleasure at the contact. 'And as for how, I don't care, as long as you take me now and don't waste any more time.' I smile up at the thief as I continue to rub his cock against the wet heat of my core, the sight of his clenched jaw and the desire in his eyes igniting my own need as fiercely as before. 'I don't want to wait a lifetime,' I add pointedly before I guide him to my entrance and tighten my grip on his length slightly.

The thief's hips jerk forward at my touch and his breath hitches as his cock presses against me, but before I can encourage him further, Brynjolf settles his weight onto one arm and his free hand slides down my body, his fingers curling around mine to grip his cock. 'Open your mouth, lass,' he murmurs as he leans down to kiss me, my lips parting wide for him obediently before my mind even registers his command.

He kisses me deep and fast, his tongue lapping wet at mine as heat floods through my body and I quickly lose myself in his kiss, freeing my hand from under his a few seconds later and instead wrapping both my arms around his neck to draw him closer, distracted from everything but his kiss - until I feel a sudden hard pressure between my legs and the thief slides his cock inside me in one quick motion.

I moan into his mouth with the feeling of both pleasure and dull pain as my muscles work to accommodate him, my arms tightening around his neck as the thief groans against my lips and kisses me harder, his tongue fierce in my mouth - and yet the rest of his body remains perfectly still, joined deeply with mine as he holds himself motionless inside me. _And it doesn't hurt to have him there,_ I think as I part my lips wider and respond to his kiss desperately, the pleasure from the contact of our mouths swiftly overwhelming the dim ache of discomfort in my core and replacing it with a keen ache of desire. _He told me he couldn't wait forever the first time he was inside me,_ I remember, conscious of my sudden lack of fulfilment despite my body feeling more complete than it has in weeks. _And now I have no intention of waiting even a minute._

I bury my hands in Brynjolf's hair, pulling his head back to break apart our mouths, half to draw breath and half to plead for more - and yet before I can do either, the thief leans back down to rejoin our mouths, his kiss stealing the last of my breath and dizzying my head.

'Bryn,' I manage to say as I gasp for air against his mouth before Brynjolf finally obliges and pulls away just enough to let us both breathe, his lips instead moving to lay kisses over my jaw.

'You all right, lass?' he murmurs as his mouth reaches my ear. 'Tell me if you're not.'

Although the rest of his body remains frustratingly still, I shiver in pleasure as the tip of his tongue licks at the sensitive skin below my earlobe, and in that moment I decide to direct my energy towards something far more urgent than talking. I move my hands to grip his tensed shoulders before I rock my hips experimentally beneath him, the tight fluttering of my muscles around his hard cock inside me making my breath catch sharply with delight - although the thief's groan is louder, his eyes flashing brightly with frustration.

'Wren-' Brynjolf starts, his voice strangled, and as I look up at him and I feel the tension in his shoulders beneath my hands, I realise he is holding himself still for a reason, in spite of his desire. _Like I told him to, the first time he was inside me,_ _waiting for me to tell him I was ready_ _._

'Fuck me, Brynjolf,' I say clearly, not looking away from him as I move my hips again, the look in his eyes affecting me just as keenly as the feeling of him inside me. 'Now.'

The word has barely left my lips when the redhead pulls out of me partway before swiftly thrusting his cock back inside me, pleasure jolting through me as I hear Brynjolf's moan of relief at the feeling.

'More,' I gasp, my fingernails digging deeply into his shoulders, feeling the tautness of his muscles beneath my hands as I purposefully tighten my own muscles inside me, revelling in both the sensation and the way the thief groans at my efforts, his eyes alight and his skin the same. 'Bryn, fuck me more-'

My words are lost beneath my moan of pleasure as the thief obeys my command almost on reflex, his hips jerking forward to drive his cock further inside me - and before I can catch my breath, he pulls back and his hand slides under the small of my back, lifting my lower body closer to him before he thrusts his cock back inside me hard, bringing himself deeper into my core with a sharp groan that makes every muscle in my body contract keenly with pleasure.

Brynjolf barely gives me a moment to enjoy the feeling before he repeats the motion, swiftly setting a fast pace as he works himself deep inside me. I moan in relief as I give myself over to him, the pleasure that he built with his tongue now deepening to something more violent, more primal, the senses of my body drowning my thoughts with every heated moment that passes with him buried deep within my centre. Unthinking and only feeling, my fingers grip Brynjolf's shoulders tighter to draw him closer, my nails digging in his skin sharp enough to make him hiss loudly; the visceral sound sends a shudder of desire through me, my heart racing and my skin flushing hot to know how I have affected him, but before I can reconnect my mind and try to make him repeat the noise, the thief retaliates in kind, thrusting harder and faster inside me until I can only cry out keenly with pleasure and the heat in my skin rises violently. _Between the two of us, he has more power over me,_ I realise distantly but find I do not care, letting my head fall back against the pillows and feeling my breath trap in my lungs as the thief takes advantage of my exposed neck, leaning back down to lay wet licking kisses over the sensitive skin below my ear.

'I promised myself I wouldn't take you like this,' he growls, his breathing as ragged as mine, unrelenting as he fucks me more desperately than I remember from when we were last together. 'I promised that I'd draw out every minute into an hour, that I'd watch you come five times before I let myself even think of this.' He thrusts hard inside me again, my cry of delight matched by Brynjolf's deep groan against my neck, his teeth burying hard in my skin briefly before he draws breath. 'But fucking gods, Wren, I need to come inside you now.'

I feel my pleasure mount twice as intensely with his words and I release his shoulders to instead tangle my hands in his hair, holding his head against my neck. 'Come,' I moan, wanting to hear him for my own satisfaction, to feel him moan into my skin as he finishes for me.

The thief growls almost in fury at my reply, and instead of obeying my command, he abruptly stops moving and pulls back from my neck. 'I'm not breaking any promises to you,' he says over my cry of impatience as he looks down at me, his heated gaze flickering over my flushed body before he pulls back further and I feel him start to slowly ease himself out of me. 'And I promised that I'd see you come first, lass.'

I moan in protest at the feeling of his cock sliding out of me, and I scramble to reach down and grasp his hips to stop him from moving further. 'No,' I say wildly, wrapping my legs around the back of his thighs and locking his body close to mine, my hips rising to draw him back inside me as my words tumble garbled and breathless from my mouth. 'Don't you dare fucking move, you bastard-'

Whatever else I might have said gets lost beneath my hitched moan of pleasure as I instinctively clench my muscles tightly around his cock, trying to hold him in place any way I can, my pleasure heightened by the way the thief groans and starts to lean down to bring his lips to mine again.

'If you're going to promise me anything, promise me you won't fucking go anywhere until I tell you to,' I manage to say in one desperate breath before he can kiss me, and the thief stops short with his mouth an inch from mine.

'Until you tell me to?' he repeats quietly, his own eyes bright with an expression I cannot read, and in that moment I realise how different my words sound when echoed in his voice.

 _I've never made demands to a man before and actually expected them to be heeded,_ I think, suddenly feeling stupid and wishing I could take back my words - although I do not get the chance, as Brynjolf closes the gap between our mouths and presses his lips against mine, his kiss unexpectedly gentle and brief in contrast with how his teeth sank into my neck only moments ago.

'All right, lass,' he says softly as he breaks apart, his eyes darkened and the corner of his mouth pulling into a half-smile. 'I'll make that promise, but only if you make one to me in return.'

'What?' I say hesitantly, some part of me remembering the deals I made in Mercer's bed and how unwise I would be to repeat the same mistakes again.

Brynjolf's smile widens and I realise that the look in his eyes is one of desire. 'Tell me what to do a little more often,' he says, before he moves his hips forward and I gasp as he slides deeper into my core again. 'Especially if it's to demand that I stay exactly where I am right now.'

I move my hands to grip the small of his back, his words chasing away my hesitation and replacing it with impatient desire once more. 'Then just stop talking and _fuck me_ already, Brynjolf,' I say before I rock my hips against him and bury my nails into his skin again, trying to grind his cock deeper inside me and incite him to retaliate as he did before.

This time, however, the thief only swears sharply under his breath, holding himself motionless inside me and his eyes flashing with frustrated desire and laughter. 'Compromise, lass,' he says, not withdrawing an inch inside me as he adjusts his position slightly to allow his hand to slip between our joined bodies, gliding quickly downwards over the shadowmark on my lower stomach. 'I'm not going anywhere, but there's something you've got to do for me first, remember?'

Before I can say a word, the thief's hand moves down between my legs and I gasp sharply at his touch, my lingering sensitivity from his earlier attentions heightening in mere seconds as his thumb works at my clit with deft hard strokes, quickly rendering me helpless to do anything but grip his body as best I can and moan with the fast mounting pleasure. As my muscles tense in anticipation, I become distinctly aware of the hard unyielding feeling of his cock deep inside me, the skill of his touch making every part of my body grip him more desperately until I start to need the inevitable release for more than simply my satisfaction. _I need it to breathe._

'Bryn-' I try to say, although the word comes as nothing more than a gasp that is quickly lost beneath the redhead's groan of frustration, his touch working me harder as he looks down at me with fire in his eyes.

'Come,' he says, his voice low and rough, and unlike when I made the same command to him, I do not have the willpower to pull away or disobey - as if my body is bound to the thief's demands, the pleasure suddenly takes over in an intense rush and I cry out loudly as I come hard for him, my back arching from the bed and my thighs snapping against his hips as I lose myself to the feeling more deeply than I can recall.

I close my eyes, hearing my breathless moans as if from a distance but feeling my muscles tighten around his cock with my pleasure keenly, and through my scattered senses, I hear Brynjolf swear loudly before I feel his hips jerk forward as he thrusts roughly inside me to spend himself deep in my core, finished by my own body's reaction to him. Still lost in my own oblivion and only vaguely aware of my desire to watch the thief, I force my eyes open a second too late as Brynjolf takes his hand from between my legs and leans down to bury his mouth against my neck again, and I feel as much as hear his voice as he groans my name into my skin deeply with his release.

My pulse throbbing desperately in my neck near to his mouth and with my view obscured by the thief's body and a tangle of his red hair, I close my eyes again and instead listen to his uneven breathing as he works the last of his throes and I lose myself to mine once more. A few moments later, my muscles relax beneath him and a long sigh of both satisfaction and longing escapes my lips, more content than I can recall and yet dimly frustrated as the intense pleasure starts to recede and I find myself too exhausted to cling to it any longer.

 _I'm probably going to wake up from this dream soon_ _anyway_ _,_ I think distantly, my exhaustion setting in harder than the pleasure as I lie still beneath the thief's warm body, remembering vaguely the events of the past few weeks and some part of me doubting that this can be anything more than a fantasy borne of my impatience and fear. _Nothing real can feel this good, and safe, and like coming home_ _after being stranded for so long_ _._

I do not know how much time has passed when I feel Brynjolf's body move slightly and I register the feeling of his mouth on my skin as he presses a light kiss against my neck, his breathing level now and his skin hot against mine.

'Tell me, then,' the thief murmurs, and although I cannot see his face, I hear the smile in his voice. 'I'm more than than happy to stay right where I am, but it might get a little uncomfortable soon.'

Realising he is right and suddenly aware of how tightly I am still gripping him, I unlock my legs from around his hips and let my hands fall away from his body. 'You can go now,' I manage to say shakily, my heart fluttering as the thief makes a quiet laugh before he pushes back from my body.

I open my eyes but catch only a brief glimpse of his grin and the gleam in his eyes as he looks down at me for a moment. 'I'm not going far, lass,' he says, before he eases himself out of me in one careful motion and moves to lie beside me, starting to pull the covers from underneath our bodies.

Feeling cold and distinctly empty without him, I force my tired body onto my side to face the thief and help him draw the covers up and over us, the warm furs comforting me only slightly until Brynjolf's arms snake around my waist and he pulls close to him beneath the covers. I curl up against his body, closing my eyes and burying my face against his chest as I feel Brynjolf rest his head on mine, his arms tightening around me and one of his hands stroking my back gently as I hear him breathe a slow and deep sigh.

My heart beat steadies and the flush of my skin wanes slowly as we lie entwined for what feels like hours, although it can only be moments. _And I should make the most of these moments like we did before, but right now I hardly care to do anything but simply be here with him,_ I think, content to stay wrapped in the auburn-haired thief's arms for what time we have left together tonight, satisfied enough by the warmth of his bare skin on mine and the slow touch of his hand down my spine, soothing me almost to sleep until the sound of his voice holds me in the present.

'When I woke up this morning, hearing the rain on the roof and looking out the window at this grey miserable city...' Brynjolf's words tail off into a soft sighing laugh into my hair before he continues. 'Gods, I didn't think I'd end the day with you in my arms.'

I do not answer, snuggling closer against his chest, not trying to summon the energy to open my eyes much less speak through my satisfied sleepy haze. The thief seems to realise I am not going to reply, let alone stay awake for much longer, as he stills his hand on my back and relaxes his hold on me slightly, allowing me to nestle more comfortably into the soft sheets.

'I'm not done with you, you know,' Brynjolf murmurs, as I feel my body and mind start to slip from consciousness. 'You can sleep now, lass, but I intend to make up for lost time when you're awake.'

In spite of my exhaustion, I feel a faint fluttering in my stomach with his words, my tired satisfied body reacting to the thief's promise with a sense of keen anticipation – although the feeling quickly disappears beneath a warm heavy wave of contentment that consumes me until the last thoughts slip from my mind and I drift off into a deep untroubled sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you lovelies survived that. One day I'll write a 50k chapter and you'll at last tell me to calm the fuck down with the monster chapters <3
> 
> Firstly, I probably did not describe Wren's clothing effectively so please see these [two](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/93/75/15/9375152a6433fc31ba0be27dd234da2b.jpg) [links](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/bd/63/1a/bd631afd876931e5b17d051f398977b2.jpg) for the sort of thing I'm imagining Wren's wearing now, with a long-sleeved shirt under and a jacket to throw over, plus some leggings. Gods of Pinterest be praised (but also damned because I can spend many writing hours there doing “research” on clothing by pinning endless pictures of capes and dresses, because of course that is of High Importance to the story...)
> 
> And to the actual chapter - I really didn't mean to write so much friend angst, but I wanted a better goodbye than Saph and Wren had last time. And I'm sure that fight scene in the alley reads horrendously, but nonetheless it was very satisfying to write Wren completely dominating those bastards.  
> Also I haven't properly written any smut in a long time, so I sincerely hope that scene reads okay - because there's a lot more to come ;) In any case, I needed cuddles and compliments and Wren having nice Brynjolf feelings. And I like convoluted chance encounters! Although his appearance will seem less convoluted in the next chapter when he explains why the fuck he's hanging out in Falkreath. Or maybe you've already figured out what he's doing here. But anyway, future smut will be a lot shorter (she says) and have less build up as Wren becomes more in control of her sexual experiences and the poor girl can stop angsting about it and just have some fun. Wrenjolf is on <3
> 
> Thank you for the hits and the kudos, I'm so very grateful for anyone still reading this and giving a fuck if I ever finish it. I know July is going to be very stressful at work for me but I promise I will get the next chapter up as soon as I am able to. It kills me to leave these updates for two months, but I'm struggling a lot right now. But we're over the 300k words mark and there's still a hell of a lot more to go yet, and I'm determined to keep my head at least somewhat above the water for however long it takes to get there. :)
> 
> Just going to go drink wine now and pretend life is great. Thanks for reading, you guys are the best and I hope you're all well <3


	29. Not Alone

I open my eyes to find the room bathed in gloomy shadows, with only the beginnings of a grey murky dawn starting to break through between the shutters at the window. _Then there's time enough to sleep a little longer,_ I think as I close my eyes again and snuggle deeper into the warm tangle of furs, feeling a comfortable weariness in my body and realising I have little desire to try to think clearly yet - until suddenly I feel movement as someone rolls over in the bed beside me and my eyes snap open, startled for only a moment when I remember that I am not waking up alone.

 _Not that he's awake yet,_ I think as I sit up carefully in the bed and look down at the sleeping thief lying on his side facing me, his auburn hair a messy tangle covering half his face and his broad freckled shoulders rising and falling steadily in sleep. My stomach flutters and a strange shiver of relief and nerves and pleasure races through me when I notice that the thief's skin is dotted with red crescents, evidently left there by my fingernails as I gripped his shoulders last night. The sight of how I have marked him unsettles something in my heart, my mind not entirely comprehending the impressions that I have left upon another's body. _I was always the one who was claimed,_ I think as I turn away from Brynjolf and ease my body out from beneath the covers, careful not to wake him as I get up from the bed and set about locating my shirt on the floor. _But he is mine, at least for as long as the marks last._

Finding myself unsteady on my bare feet and feeling a distant ache between my legs, I slip on my shirt as I walk over to the window, reaching out to push the shutters open with a low creak. As a rush of cold damp morning air hits me, I look down to find that the window overlooks the graveyard, the dark hazy morning mists hanging heavily amidst the jutting stones and overgrown mounds of earth. With the rain subsided, Falkreath and its graveyard are deathly silent, and as I lean forward to rest my elbows on the window ledge and breathe deeply the fresh air for several long seconds, I soon grow conscious of the beating of my heart and the drawing of my breath, the sounds of my life suddenly deafening in the silence.

 _Death is beautiful, dreamless sleeps and quiet still hearts,_ I think, the jester's words jumping unbidden into my mind, not realising that I had even remembered them. _But_ _Cicero was right. It is beautiful here, where only corpses sleep peacefully, and safe._

'Wren?'

My heart jumps sharply at the sound of Brynjolf's voice behind me, and as I straighten up quickly from the window ledge, I feel his hands gently touch my shoulders and my thoughts of death disappear swiftly from my mind when I realise that the thief must have left the bed whilst I was lost in thought. _He's quiet as death himself,_ I think before Brynjolf's bare arms slip around my waist and I feel his mouth against my ear.

'This is the first time I've ever wanted it to be dawn,' he says softly, drawing me back against his body as he kisses the tip of my ear. 'It's a crime to keep you hidden in darkness, lass.'

I lean back against him, wrapping my own arms over his to lock him in place, conscious of the warmth of his bare chest against my back and realising that he is still undressed. 'And you're usually so opposed to criminal activity,' I say teasingly, trying to crush the warm fluttering of my stomach as the thief's mouth moves down to my earlobe and I hear him laugh.

'Then maybe I should change my ways,' Brynjolf murmurs, and I gasp as his teeth close briefly around my earlobe and a shiver of pleasure races through me. 'Although stealing a dozen candles would be the simpler solution.' He sighs softly before he relaxes his arms around my waist. 'In any case, I've long since grown accustomed to the dark. Turn around, lass, and let me see you?'

I let go of his arms and turn around to face him before he even finishes speaking, goosebumps rising over my bare legs and beneath my shirt as I look up at Brynjolf, my heart aching for the dawn light to rise quicker so that I might see him more clearly. As my gaze races over the familiar features of his face cast in the murky shadows, I cannot help but raise my hands to his cheeks, wanting to touch him, wanting to hold him, wanting to reassure myself that this is not merely a dream.

'I missed you,' I whisper, meaning the words more than I realised, knowing that my heart longed not only for him but for something else too. _For what he makes me think about, for the Guild and the familiar streets of Riften, for Sapphire and Rune, for nights in the Ragged Flagon, for the brief moments of light in the darkness, for those precious hours in his arms where it felt only good to be touched._

A flicker of a smile creases Brynjolf's eyes and he reaches up to catch both my hands with his own, bringing them to his mouth and kissing my palms in turn. 'I've let you go too many times,' he says softly into my skin, turning my hands to run his lips over my fingers. 'And I'm not doing it again.' He meets my eyes again, laughter brightening his green irises even through the darkness. 'Next time you disappear halfway across Skyrim, give me at least a day to try to convince you to wait for me, all right?'

'I clearly didn't need to wait for you, anyway,' I say with a smile. 'You somehow found me out here.'

'Aye, well, I've always had incredible luck,' Brynjolf says mildly as he lays another kiss on my knuckles. 'How else do you explain our paths crossing as they did last night? That was the first house I decided to rob here, and I was there barely a minute before you arrived to interrupt me.' He grins as he lowers my hands from his mouth and links our fingers together between our bodies. 'Either my inherent good fortune brought us together, lass, or I've been praying to Nocturnal without realising.'

'Karliah would be pleased if you had,' I say, before a question rises in my mind. 'But what _are_ you doing here?' I ask, suddenly realising that he still has not told me. 'What brought you to Falkreath in the first place?'

Brynjolf shrugs. 'There's some Guild business that needed to be taken care of,' he answers carelessly, although I notice the grim tension in his jaw even as he graces me with a charming smile. 'But now I've found you, lass, I'd much rather take care of whatever need you might have of me.'

'What Guild business?' I ask, ignoring his line as I find myself eager for any news on the Thieves Guild and the world that I have left behind. 'It must be serious if you had to come all the way out here yourself.'

He shakes his head and sighs wearily, confirming in my mind that the Guild work that has brought him to Falkreath is not one of profit or pleasure. 'It's just another thorn in our side,' he says. 'And in truth, any guildmember could've done handled this, but I knew you were headed to Falkreath and the thought of at least being in the same hold as you was more than enough incentive to make the journey and deal with the problem myself. Don't worry about it, Wren,' he adds as I open my mouth to enquire further. 'I'll explain later, but for now I'd rather you tell me why you're out here alone when you didn't leave Riften that way. Where are the others? Are they all right?'

'I...' My words falter as I realise that I cannot answer any of his questions truthfully. _My own safety aside, for all I know Mercer might've got to the others by now and they're lying dead in that cold dark temple_ _where I left them_ _._ 'They're fine, they're at the Twilight Sepulcher,' I say finally, forcing my voice to sound firm as if I am sure of their safety. 'I'm not with them because I've been working my way into the Dark Brotherhood.'

'The Dark Brotherhood?' Brynjolf echoes, but he does not get a chance to ask anything else, as a sharp knock at the door interrupts him and my heart drops at the sound, a curious feeling of dread gnawing suddenly in my stomach.

'Who is that?' I ask, my hands feeling trapped in Brynjolf's as I look past him to the door and my mind jumps ahead of itself. _I killed a man_ _in this tavern_ _, maybe someone saw_ _me walk through here last night_ _, maybe someone is coming for me_ _now_ _,_ I think wildly, but before I can calm my thoughts and reassure myself that it is probably just a barmaid or a patron knocking on the wrong door, I hear another brisk knock, this time followed by a muffled voice.

'Brynjolf, it's Alsten,' I hear someone say, the voice male and distantly familiar to my ears. 'You got a minute? Someone thinks they've seen her.'

The redhead swears under his breath and releases my hands. 'Not fucking likely,' he mutters to himself, before he turns away and strides across the room to where his clothes lie on the floor. 'Sorry, lass, this will only take a second. He's here about that Guild business I mentioned, but he won't have much to say.' Brynjolf makes a quiet snort of derision as he picks up his trousers and swiftly pulls them on. 'We'd have more luck if the damn fool was searching for gold or ale.'

'Who is that?' I repeat, some part of my mind already knowing the answer to my question and yet needing Brynjolf to connect the pieces. _Because I sure as hell don't want to believe that I recognise that voice from the night I killed Lorias or the night I killed his friends in the alley._

'Just another person who can't do their fucking job,' Brynjolf says wearily, fastening the ties of his trousers loosely before glancing back at me, a hard look in his eyes. 'Would you mind getting back into bed, lass? I'd rather keep this bastard from staring at you while you're standing there only half-dressed.'

Suddenly aware that it is imperative to conceal my identity and yet not wanting to make myself vulnerable by returning to lie down in the bed, I force a quick laugh and turn back to the window. 'How about I just close the shutters and hope that no one else has as good vision in the dark as you?' I say flippantly and yet meaning the words as I pull the shutters closed against the murky dawn light and bathe the room in deeper darkness once more.

'In all fairness, I'm starting to think he's blind anyway,' Brynjolf replies wearily as I turn around to watch him walk towards the door, my eyes adjusting quicker than I expect to the shadows.

 _Even so, m_ _aybe I should be praying to Nocturnal right now,_ I think, reaching up to tuck my hair into the neck of my shirt, flattening my curls as best I can as Brynjolf unlocks the door and pulls it open halfway to reveal a tall fair-haired Nord man standing on the other side.

 _A tall blond Nord is hardly unusual,_ I calm myself, until my eyes flicker over the man's body and I register his large hands, and suddenly I remember the way those hands felt on my body in the alley, grasping my jacket and searching for my weapons to disarm me, holding me trapped in place. _Then he left to tell someone that they had found me, and I killed his friends while he was gone._

Panic strikes my heart and I shrink back against the window ledge, but my instinctive movement only draws the Nord's attention, and his gaze flickers past Brynjolf and across the room to me - but to my intense relief and by some fluke of the shadows, it seems that the Nord's eyes do not work as well as mine in the darkness, as he makes no comment or movement or gesture of recognition towards me before he looks quickly back at Brynjolf.

'Sorry to disturb you, Guildmaster,' he says, my heart beating fast at both the Nord's voice and the sound of the title _Guildmaster_ directed towards Brynjolf. 'Didn't realise you had company.'

'Just make it quick,' Brynjolf answers briskly, and I notice him move his body slightly to further block the Nord's view of me. 'Someone thinks they've seen her? Where?'

'One of our eyes claims he saw her going into the Reath the other night,' the Nord says, my nervously beating heart seeming to tighten abruptly when he names the tavern at which I have stayed since killing Lorias' men. 'Although we couldn't get much more than that out of him - he spent the rest of the night trying to bed the barmaid there and ended up passed out drunk on the street. Now he's asking for coin in exchange for more information.'

'And will that be information about the barmaid he's trying to fuck or the woman we're actually looking for?' Brynjolf makes an exasperated sigh as I hold my own breath in panic. 'Tell him he can have coin after he gives me something useful and tells it to me sober. So you haven't heard anything else?' As the Nord shakes his head, Brynjolf swears under his breath. 'Then just keep looking,' he says. 'And don't forget what I told you. She's no good to me if she can't or won't talk, so make sure you and your men keep your hands off her when you find her.'

'Unhurt and unspoilt, we got it the first time,' the Nord says, an irritated edge to his voice. 'Although the bitch deserves more than that for what she's done.'

'Aye, but you're not going to be the one to give it to her,' Brynjolf answers shortly. 'Was that all?'

'That's all,' the Nord says, and before the words are out of his mouth, Brynjolf steps back and shuts the door sharply, locking it quickly as he swears under his breath again.

'Worthless bastards,' he mutters, turning away and walking back across the room towards me as he raises his voice to a more audible level. 'Sorry for the interruption, lass.'

'What was that about?' I ask, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. 'Who was that man?'

'One of our Guild contacts out here,' the thief replies as he comes to stand in front of me again. 'They're looking for a woman who's caused us a fair bit of grief recently. But don't worry yourself about it,' he adds as he places his hands on my waist. 'We'll figure it out, and in the meantime, I'd much rather talk about the woman in my arms right now.'

I lift my hands to his bare chest, stopping him from leaning closer. 'Looking for a woman?' I echo, comprehending painfully clearly what has brought Brynjolf to Falkreath as I realise that the woman he is seeking and the woman in his arms now are one and the same. _It was never Mercer those men were going to_ _hand_ _me_ _over_ _to... it was the new Guildmaster._ 'Who are you looking for? Is something wrong with the Guild?'

Brynjolf sights quietly. 'Is _something_ wrong with the Guild?' he repeats bitterly, before he shakes his head and steps forward, drawing me closer to his body. 'Don't worry, lass, you have your own troubles, and I'm not going to add to them with Guild business that I should've prevented from happening. Forget about it, and instead tell me-'

'Brynjolf,' I interrupt sharply before he can finish speaking, my impatience overtaking my caution. 'Tell me what happened. I'm still a part of the Guild, aren't I? Can't I know what's going on?'

The thief's troubled expression clears as the corner of his mouth turns up in a small smile. 'You'll always be a part of the Guild, lass, no matter what armour you wear or where you go or what you do.'

'So tell me what's happened,' I say firmly, and Brynjolf sighs in resignation when he evidently realises I am not going to leave the subject alone.

'Did Rune mention anything about that Guild contact we asked him to negotiate with while you were all out here?' the thief says. 'Lorias?'

'Rune only said that their meeting went well and they agreed to terms,' I say cautiously, my stomach turning at the name. 'Why, did something happen?'

'Aye, the lad wasted his time,' Brynjolf says sardonically. 'Lorias was murdered about two weeks ago. Some of his associates said they'd found the woman who they think is responsible and they were going to bring her to me. Instead, they wound up dead in an alley, with no sign of the woman.' He makes a quiet sound of laughter in his throat. 'Whoever she is, she's good.'

I carefully arrange my face to show no expression, his words sending a strange sense of satisfaction through me to mingle with the unease and the guilt that cuts through my heart. _I've caused his pain, but hearing the admiration in his voice reminds me how sweet it was to kill every one of those bastards._ 'And they have no idea who she is?' I ask, forcing my own voice to sound sceptical. 'Didn't they describe her to you at all?'

'Beyond saying she had a nice ass and they would've gladly fucked her given the chance?' Brynjolf shakes his head and I try to hide my relief. 'No, lass. As far as I know, that fool Alsten's the only one who's actually seen her, and he admits the two times that she was standing right in front of him, he was either so drunk he saw three of her or it was so dark he could barely see her at all.' The thief swears under his breath again, the frustrated bitterness in his voice cutting something in my heart once more. 'I didn't want to hurt her,' he mutters, looking away from me as I feel his hands grip tighter almost indiscernibly at my waist. 'I told them to bring her in alive and untouched. She could've led us to Mercer, and I would've paid whatever price she wanted for that information.'

'Mercer?' I say, confused, suddenly conscious of Brynjolf's hands on my waist, my body feeling fragile beneath his grip, remembering how easily my skin and flesh can be wounded. 'What do you mean? You think this was Mercer?'

'Who else?' The thief looks back at me, the frustration in his eyes now turned to anger. 'We thought he hadn't managed to fuck with the Guild out here, but this can't be a coincidence. He would've known that without Lorias putting them to use under the Guild's influence, these fucking idiots are just a rabble of petty burglars and thugs.' Brynjolf laughs a cold harsh laugh. 'Although the way things are going in Riften these days, we're hardly any better. Half our clients are refusing to do business with us, while the other half are cutting us down on deals until our profits are next to nothing. Six members have deserted in the past month because coin has been so dry. I wouldn't be surprised if I got back to the Cistern to find it completely empty, except for maybe Delvin spending the last of his gold in the Flagon.'

I feel another sharp pang of guilt, my heart gripping painfully with the thief's words. 'I'm sorry,' I say faintly, knowing that he will not realise how genuinely I mean it, knowing that my assassination of Lorias is just one of the ways I have compromised the Guild. _If I'd never let Mercer use me, maybe none of this would've happened._

'It's not your fault, lass,' Brynjolf tells me firmly. 'It's mine. If I saw what Mercer was doing all this time, we could've avoided this. I knew what he was capable of, and yet I did nothing to stop it.' Bitterness darkens his emerald eyes and he looks away, but not before I catch sight of the intense flash of pain in his expression. 'I just stood back and watched. Like I've always just stood back and fucking watched.'

I look at him silently, suddenly realising that there is something more than Mercer's betrayal and the Guild's ruin in his eyes, but as I struggle to find the words to comfort him or ask what is on his mind, I notice the thief's expression harden and I realise I have already missed my chance.

'Well, there's no point in dwelling on it,' he says carelessly, although he still does not meet my eyes. 'What was it that Karliah said when you left? It doesn't matter what we should've done, only what we did, and what we can do now to fix those mistakes.' He exhales a slow weary sigh. 'And besides, there'll always be gold for us somewhere and somehow, even if the Guild itself becomes nothing more than a handful of thieves foolishly clinging to something irreparable.'

 _And by clinging to my desire to see Astrid dead, I have made more mistakes and jeopardised the only place that has felt like home_ _,_ I think as I study Brynjolf's expression, desperately wishing I were not the cause of his pain - and yet, despite my crushing guilt over damaging the Guild's position, I suddenly remember the moment I buried the dagger into Lorias' neck and felt his blood on my naked body, his life and my dignity a fair exchange for bringing me another step closer to justice. _Despite everything, I don't regret it,_ I realise distantly, before I force the thought from my mind and instead reach up to cup the thief's face in both my hands, turning him back to look at me.

'The Guild is more than that,' I say firmly, wanting to relieve my own pain as much as his. _'You're_ more than that, Brynjolf. None of this is your fault, but if anyone can fix what has happened, I know it'll be you.'

With my touch and my words, the thief grins easily, the pained expression upon his handsome face vanishing suddenly as if it were never there. 'There's another a far more important problem that I need to fix first, lass,' he says, drawing me closer as he leans his body against mine. 'And that's how shamefully neglectful I have been of you compared to the last time you were in my bed.'

'Don't change the subject,' I say quickly as I let my hands fall to his bare shoulders, resisting the sudden desire of my fingers to trace over his freckles and try to find the marks I left on him last night. 'This really isn't your fault, and we both know you _will_ fix it somehow. Besides, surely losing your contact out here won't affect the Guild that badly, will it?' I try to control the urgency in my voice, needing to hear him confirm it for my own sake. 'You'll find someone else to replace him, won't you? Didn't he have a second-in-command or someone who can keep things going here?'

Brynjolf laughs briefly, although the sound is still just as bitter as before. 'Seems every second-in-command is getting the chance to play leader these days,' he mutters. 'And no, lass - if the past few days are anything to go by, none of Lorias' men are capable of overseeing our ventures this side of Skyrim. The only hope we've got is with one of our contacts who's currently working in Solitude, but we'd be trading a rat for a snake. An expensive snake, too, since he'll no doubt require some financial persuasion to help the Guild after my last meeting with him.'

A scowl passes across the thief's face, but before I can say a word or question him further, he pins his easy smile back at his mouth again.

'Like I said, there's no sense in worrying about it,' he says dismissively. 'If the Guild ends up falling into ruin and I have to work behind the bar in the Ragged Flagon to make a living, at least I'll have my devastatingly good looks to earn extra tips.' His eyes gleam as his gaze flickers over me and I realise he has no intention of discussing the Guild's troubles or his own worries further. 'And as long as I'll still have you half-naked and safe in my arms, it won't all be bad.'

Before I can speak, he leans down and kisses my mouth lightly, one of his hands snaking up into my hair to free my curls from where I tucked them into my shirt, holding me in place as his lips ease mine apart. Despite my intention to pull away and resume our conversation, my hands grip at his shoulders and my mouth responds just as instinctively, returning his kiss with more eagerness than I intend, my pressing guilt conflicting with my desire as the thief's tongue teases mine for only a brief moment before he breaks apart.

'It wouldn't be bad at all,' he murmurs, his mouth curved in a charming smile before he leans back in to try to bring our lips together again.

'Don't do that,' I say faintly, pulling back and gripping his shoulders harder to keep him at a distance.

'Don't kiss you?' The thief raises an eyebrow, unlacing his fingers from my hair and moving both his hands to my waist again. 'That might be difficult for me, lass. I enjoy kissing you far too much, so I'm going to need a very good reason to stop.'

'I meant don't change the subject and try to _charm_ me so I forget what we were talking about,' I say, although the thought of the Guild seems to slip from my mind even as I speak, distracted by the feeling of Brynjolf's warm skin under my hands and the closeness of his body to mine. 'Just-'

Suddenly Brynjolf's hands grip my waist more securely and he lifts me from the ground with ease, my gasp of surprise barely escaping my lips before I find myself sitting on the window ledge behind me.

'I'm not changing the subject,' he says softly as my skin tingles against the cool stone beneath me and my bare legs part on reflex to allow the thief to step forward and stand between them. 'Consider this a temporary diversion while we think about more enjoyable things for a while.'

'More enjoyable things?' I echo as my hands slide up to the back of his head and I realise I am more than willing to change the subject. 'Such as?'

'You,' Brynjolf answers before he leans forward and rejoins our mouths, his kiss more insistent and my body's response just as eager, as my lips part beneath his and a needy ache suddenly warms my stomach when I find his tongue with my own.

 _So what if the Guild collapses and I bear the blame?_ I think as I close my eyes and kiss him hungrily, running my fingers through his hair and gently unknotting the sleep-tangles, feeling Brynjolf's hands start to ease my shirt up from my hips. _As long as the people I care for are safe, and I can feel again these sweet fragile moments of nothing but pleasure, what does the rest matter?_

I lean closer as his hands slide under my shirt, shivering as his fingers glide up the sides of my torso and over my ribs, wanting to feel his hands over every inch of my body - although my desire is left unsatisfied when Brynjolf breaks apart from my mouth a moment later and his hands hesitate where they are.

'Will you tell me what happened now?' he murmurs, and I open my eyes to find the thief's expression torn between desire and concern.

'What?' I say in confusion, not understanding what he means, until I suddenly feel his thumb brush lightly over Lorias' scar beneath my ribs and I bite my lip against my gasp of pain, the wound still tender to the direct touch.

Worry deepens the lines of Brynjolf's face and his hands drop back down to my waist. 'Wren-' he starts quietly.

'It's just an old wound,' I interrupt, forcing myself to sound nonchalant as I curl my fingers tighter in his hair and lean closer once more. 'Don't worry about it, all right?'

'Don't tell me it's an old wound, lass,' he says, resisting my attempt to pull his head back to join our mouths again. 'I'd remember. What happened? Who hurt you?'

'You'd remember?' I echo flippantly, ignoring his questions, not knowing how to begin answering. 'You've only seen me naked twice, Brynjolf, do you really remember where all my scars are?'

The thief does not answer except to raise an eyebrow, and it only takes a few moments of his stubborn silence for me to realise that I am fighting a losing battle just as he was before. 'What happened?' he repeats finally.

I untwine my hands from his hair and lean back from his body, suddenly feeling conscious of my parted bare legs. 'I got too close to one of my Brotherhood contracts, that's all,' I say off-handedly. 'I won, though. He's dead and I'm not. There's not much else to say.'

'Too close?' The look in Brynjolf's eyes hardens and I feel his hands grip tighter at my waist. 'Who was he?'

I almost falter under the weight of his gaze before the lie seems to fall effortlessly from my lips. 'A merchant,' I tell him. 'But he's dead now so it doesn't matter who he was anyway.'

Brynjolf does not speak for a moment, his gaze clouding with concern once more as he studies my face. 'Are you all right, lass?' he asks softly.

Something catches in my heart as I look back at him and try to think of how to reply, once again becoming sharply aware of my half-naked body - and this time, my awareness is coupled by the visceral memory of the last time I was naked with another man and the touch of Lorias' hands on my bare skin, the taste of his cock in my mouth, the rain of his blood when I finally won.

'I'm fine,' I say, managing a smile that seems almost genuine even to my own lips. 'The wound wasn't hard to heal, so there was no harm done. And I'd kill him again if I could,' I add honestly, feeling an echo of the satisfaction I felt at my victory in the Imperial's bed and at the look of approval in Astrid's eyes when I relayed my success to her. _Whatever I've done to the Guild and to Brynjolf, however I degraded myself for my revenge, I'd still cut the bastard's throat again if I had the chance._

Brynjolf's hands relax their hold at my waist, although the concern in his eyes lingers. 'And he'd deserve it, for hurting you,' he says quietly.

My smile stays fixed at my mouth, although the thief's words suddenly leave my stomach feeling hollow. _I remember my lessons,_ I think bitterly, recalling what Astrid taught me the night she kidnapped me and the countless ways in which Mercer educated me. _As sweet as Brynjolf's words are, it's useless trying to decide what anyone deserves._

'You know, a more profitable diversion right now would be going back to the alley and seeing if that coin purse is still there from last night,' I say brightly, the thought coming to me suddenly as I realise just how desperately I want to be clothed and away from the place where I surrendered some part of me in exchange for another. _And besides, it's not exactly wise to stay here while I am being hunted for the murder I committed in this tavern._ 'Someone else might take it if we leave it any longer. Do you remember where the alley was?'

If Brynjolf is caught off-guard by my abrupt change of topic, he is careful not to show it, and only a moment later he releases my waist and takes his hands away from beneath my shirt. 'I'm sure we'll track it down, lass,' he says, stepping backwards before he gives me a charming smile. 'Although I wasn't exactly thinking about the map of Falkreath when we were in that alley, you know.'

As the thief turns away to find the rest of his clothes, I slip down from the window ledge, my need to be dressed fading slightly with his words. 'Neither was I,' I admit, studying Brynjolf's shoulders and back as he laughs softly in reply and leans down to pick up his shirt, fighting my keen desire to add more faint scarlet crescents to his freckled skin with my nails. _But not here, where he is the Guildmaster and I am the one he is hunting,_ I think firmly, the thought sufficiently quelling my desire as I too start to find my clothes and get dressed. _Prizing my pleasure above my sense with Mercer left me with my throat cut,_ _and I always knew that Brynjolf had the power to hurt me just as severely, if not far worse_ _._

My mind distracted and the thief's hands as quick and skilled as ever, Brynjolf finishes dressing long before me, and fully clothed he moves to stand in front of me as I still fumble with the laces of my bodice.

'This isn't half as much fun,' he comments as his hands cover mine and he threads the fastenings swiftly, pausing for a moment before he steps back and reaches down to the floor. 'And don't forget these, starlight.'

With a smile, Brynjolf hands my three blades to me, and I smile easily in return, trying not to think of the blood I spilt with the small knives. _Blood that has put more distance between the Guild and me, and more lies between Brynjolf and me,_ I think, fastening the blades into place in my bodice and my boots as Brynjolf turns back to pick up my two daggers - although unlike with my knives, the thief hesitates for a few seconds before he straightens back to standing with only one of my daggers in his hands, his fingers tracing over the runes inscribed upon Nightclaw's worn sheathe.

'Is this...?' His voice tails off as he studies the ebonwraith blade, his brow furrowing before he answers his own question. 'This is Gallus' dagger.'

'Yes,' I say, not sure if Brynjolf is surprised or upset or angered by the discovery.

'Where did you get it?' he asks, his gaze still on the blade.

'Karliah gave it to me,' I say. 'A few weeks ago, when she made me a Nightingale.'

Brynjolf looks up at me at last, his eyes bright with some expression I cannot quite place. 'A Nightingale?' he repeats, hesitating for a few seconds longer before he finally steps forward and hands me the dagger. 'So that was Karliah's plan to find Mercer? The Nightingale Song?'

He releases Nightclaw into my hands and turns away to pick up Rune's silver dagger from the floor as my own fingers close around the ebonwraith blade and I stare at Brynjolf, feeling distinctly caught off-guard. 'You know about that?' I say.

'Aye, lass, the Nightingale legends were exciting tales for a young thief... although I admit I thought there might've been more to Karliah's plan than legends.' Brynjolf inclines his head, and I see well enough the look of disappointment on his face. 'And seeing as we haven't heard any news back at the Guild and you're all still out here, I'm guessing the Song didn't work and Mercer never showed up.'

'He...' I start, remembering again that I have no way of knowing whether the Song has indeed worked in my absence. _Or where Mercer is right now._ 'The Song hasn't worked yet,' I say eventually, looking away as I fasten Nightclaw to the back of my hip distractedly. 'Karliah said it might take time to bring him to the Sepulcher, but I couldn't wait. I had to go to the Sanctuary.' Hearing the words aloud reminds me of what I abandoned when I left for the Dark Brotherhood, and suddenly I feel another pang of guilt for leaving the three thieves as I did. 'Karliah let me go, since I'm hardly much use to them anyway,' I add flippantly, not needing to convince myself of that truth, remembering my last encounter with Mercer and feeling a twinge in the shadowmark scar below my navel, knowing that the Guildmaster's twisted form of protection was a cruel joke to only further prove my weakness. 'I know they can deal with Mercer alone.'

I feel the weight of Brynjolf's gaze as I busy myself with the dagger fastenings for a few seconds until the thief breaks the silence. 'While you deal with Astrid alone,' he says, the truth of his quiet words cutting deeply.

 _I was alone_ _for t_ _he first life I took, and I'll be alone for the last too._

'Well, it's better that way,' I reply offhandedly, looking up at him to find the thief's eyes bright with a strange combination of regret and almost fury. _Like Cicero's grey eyes, when he handed me the rose and realised it was dying_ _and there was nothing he could do_ _._ 'And I'm not entirely alone,' I say as I take the silver dagger from his hands and quickly strap it in place at my hip. 'Someone from the Sanctuary has helped me with my last few contracts, and now I only have a few more before Astrid will initiate me into the Dark Brotherhood and then I'll be close enough to kill her.' I force a smile on my face and make my voice sound brighter, not wanting to discuss the matter further. 'Shall we go now?' I say before the thief can answer. 'That coin purse is probably long gone but it's still worth looking, right?'

As I start to walk away, the thief catches my wrist and turns me back to face him, his expression still troubled, although his mouth pulls into an easy smile as he looks down at me. 'All right, lass,' he says, his other hand rising to cup the side of my face. 'We'll go, but two things first.' Before I can speak, he leans down and presses his mouth against mine, his kiss brief and gentle. 'You're right, you're not entirely alone,' he murmurs as he pulls away, his eyes no longer bright with regret but with determination and promise. 'I'm not asking you to wait for me now, Wren. Whatever I can do to help you, with Astrid, with Mercer, with anything, name it and consider it done.'

My heart flutters at the thief's words, both with gladness and with fear, wanting once more the safe warmth of his arms and yet not wanting to endanger Brynjolf any more than I wanted to risk Sapphire's life. _But maybe this time, I don't have to separate pleasure and sense,_ I think, some part of me wondering if the redhead's offer comes without strings, without implication, without hurt to either of us. _Maybe this doesn't have to be an exchange,_ _maybe this doesn't have to end with pain and humiliation. Maybe it doesn't have to end at all, and maybe he truly means what he says._

'So does that count as one thing or two?' I ask lightly, not knowing how else to respond.

Brynjolf laughs and steps back from me. 'One,' he says as he picks up my jacket from the floor. 'The second thing we need to deal with before we leave is food.' He grins as he hands my jacket to me. 'I feel like I'm going to need a lot of energy to keep you suitably diverted, lass.'

'As long as we don't stay at this tavern to eat,' I say before I can stop myself, not wanting to risk the Nord seeing me sober and in daylight. Noticing Brynjolf's quizzical look at my words, I gesture quickly across the room to the closed window. 'The graves outside are... scary,' I explain with a forced shudder before I start to pull on my jacket. 'It's creepy here.'

The thief laughs again. 'You know it's kind of creepy everywhere in Falkreath, right?' he says teasingly, although he does not seem inclined to question my lie further, and he reaches past me to unlock the door and pull it open. 'Come on, then. And if the gold's gone from the alley, I'm counting on you to find us some more rather swiftly now that you're a Nightingale.'

'I might be a Nightingale but you're still the better thief,' I remind him, my unease fading a little as I watch Brynjolf's mouth pull into another smile.

'Aye, but very few are better than me,' he says before his eyes gleam. 'And I'll remind you of the extent of that truth later, lass.'

With one last grin, the thief steps out into the hallway and I follow him, pulling up my hood to cover my hair as I pray that I never have to return to the Gravesend. _And that Brynjolf never learns of what I have done to the Guild, and how willingly I could do it again._

 

*

 

By the time we reach the alley, the morning mists have risen in the damp cold air and grey clouds move fast in the sky with the promise of rain soon to fall. _We should've come sooner,_ I think, realising with a quick glance around the empty alley that avoiding the impending downpour is the least of reasons why we should have hurried.

'Shame,' Brynjolf says from beside me, noticing just as I have that the coin purse is nowhere to be found and has evidently been claimed by someone else. 'But hardly surprising. I know I wouldn't walk past a purse of gold and just leave it lying there.'

I glance sideways at him, unable to stop myself from smiling. 'You wouldn't walk past a purse of gold even if it was in someone's pocket,' I point out, feeling a flutter in my stomach as the thief turns to look at me.

'Well, that depends on whose pocket,' he says with a charming smile of his own. 'Yours I wouldn't touch, lass, I can assure you of that.'

'Is that so?' I say sardonically as I turn to face him, remembering how he had counted my coins and found the carving knife in my satchel the night we met, and how he slipped his gem into my pocket the night I left Riften.

'Of course,' the thief replies. 'I'm not going to cross a woman with at least six very sharp weapons at her disposal, Wren.'

'Six?' I echo. 'I only have five blades. You found them all last night, remember?'

'I count your sharp tongue as a weapon,' Brynjolf says, stepping forward to close the gap between us. 'Such a lovely weapon too, and with it your words and your kiss can disarm me just as surely as those daggers of yours.'

I raise my eyebrows at the thief's line, although I cannot stop my heart from fluttering warm with relief at the sight of his smile, revelling in the sight of him in the daylight at last and distantly remembering the moments in his bed back at the Guild when we said goodbye. _When I thought I might never see him smile like that again._ 'My words and my kiss?' I repeat sceptically. 'So you'd recommend me leaving my blades behind next time I go on an assassination? Shall I defend myself with words and kisses instead?'

Brynjolf laughs and reaches out to grasp my waist, my body unresisting as he pulls me into his arms. 'No, lass, I'd rather you defend yourself with your blades if anyone else gets this close to you,' he says. 'But when _I'm_ the one getting close to you...'

The thief leans down as I tilt my head back instinctively to raise my mouth to meet his kiss, my lips needing little encouragement to part beneath his own to allow the tip of his tongue slip into my mouth, his kiss frustratingly brief before he pulls away.

'Well, I'd rather you use your tongue than your daggers,' Brynjolf finishes with a grin, and before I can reply, he leans back down to kiss me again, his mouth and tongue now keener as his arms tighten around my waist, drawing me closer against his body.

'Brynjolf,' I start to say in half-hearted protest against his mouth even as I return his kiss eagerly, my fingers hooking into the buckles of the thief's armour at his chest and feeling warmth spread in my lower stomach, my desire sparked far more swiftly than I anticipate despite my consciousness of our position in a day-lit street.

The thief makes an impatient sound in his throat as he breaks apart from my mouth. 'I told you I'd need a very good reason not to do this all the time,' he says, his gaze darkened and his own impatient desire seemingly ignited as quickly as mine. 'So give me a reason now, lass, or I'm not going to stop.'

 _But that's the last thing I want either,_ I think as I look up at him, trying to fight my urge to pull his head back down to mine. 'How about the fact that we're in the middle of an alley in broad daylight?' I suggest, but the words are barely out of my mouth before the thief leans down without hesitation and kisses away my words, one of his hands trailing up my spine to the back of my neck to hold me close to him.

'Not good enough,' he says against my lips as his fingers knot in my hair and I feel my heart ache eagerly for him to hold me tighter. 'Fuck, Wren, it's never going to be enough. Tell me to-'

I silence his words with my mouth and cling to him tighter, pleasure jolting warm and deep in my stomach as the thief responds in kind, words long forgotten as I close my eyes and I meet his tongue with my own, the ache in my heart quickly overwhelmed by the needy ache between my legs as I both hear and feel the thief's low groan of satisfaction against my mouth.

 _He was right, it doesn't matter about the Guild, or anything else,_ I think distractedly, remembering that I would've stayed in Riften for him, not for coin or for the Guild but for Brynjolf and for the strange realisation that I do not have to earn my pleasure by giving up something else in return. _Well, apart from my revenge,_ I think as I lose myself to his kiss, easily convincing myself that Astrid can wait a little while longer - and yet, as my hands grip the fastenings of the thief's armour and I distantly consider doing as he threatened the previous night and stripping us both bare right here, I suddenly feel the thief's body tense beneath my hands.

A moment later, Brynjolf breaks apart from my mouth and releases his hold on me, evidently ignoring my begging whine at the absence of his mouth and body - although the sound of my frustration is lost to my ears too, as instead I hear the sharp sigh of a dagger being drawn and a dangerous hiss of fury from somewhere beside us, and with a jolt of fear rather than desire, I realise that we are no longer alone.

My eyes snap open to find Brynjolf directly in front of me with his dagger drawn, his body positioned between mine and a slender hooded man dressed in patched red and black; my heart stops painfully for a moment as my mind processes the stranger's pale skeletal hand holding a small knife against Brynjolf's neck while the thief poises his own glass dagger at the neck of the stranger, neither moving and their dagger arms steady as they hold the other at bladepoint.

The stranger hisses quietly again, his teeth exposed and gleaming beneath the shadow of his hood, the threatening sound sending a chill down my spine - until the stranger reaches into his tattered clothing with his free hand and withdraws another knife, and as I hear a faint jingling of bells with his movement and I suddenly notice a few red strands beneath the man's hood, I realise that the man at Brynjolf's bladepoint is not a stranger after all.

'Cicero!' I gasp in shock, my lips still wet from the thief's kiss and fear pounding in my heart. 'What are you doing?!'

'You know him?' Brynjolf says incredulously, not turning to face me or lowering his blade from the jester's neck, although it matters little as Cicero does not respond to my words except to hiss threateningly again, his gaze fixed on Brynjolf and his pale fingers gripping his blades tighter.

'Cicero!' I say again more loudly, ignoring Brynjolf's question and feeling panic racing in my heart as the pair hold their blades to the other's neck. 'What are you-'

'Thieves, taking what isn't theirs,' the jester spits viciously, his hands shaking and his expression contorted beneath the shadows of his hood. 'I'll tear his throat to pieces, I'll set his skin and eyes aflame, I'll make him pay, Cicero promises he'll give him what he deserves, yes, for taking her away, for taking her from her nest, for _taking_ her, for-'

'Tear my throat to pieces?' Brynjolf says sharply, and I realise the thief has also drawn a second small blade without my noticing. 'Go ahead and try it, little man.'

'Brynjolf, stop,' I say as Cicero bares his teeth again, my heart pounding in fear for the thief's safety and for the jester's no less, not wanting to see which will break their impasse and strike first. 'He's a friend, he doesn't mean-'

'A friend?' Brynjolf echoes, confusion and anger edging his voice. 'What the fuck-'

'Cicero, put down the knives,' I interrupt, stepping to the side slightly from behind Brynjolf to better see the jester. 'And Brynjolf will put down his.'

'Wren-' the thief starts sharply, starting to move to block me from getting any closer to the jester, but Cicero raises his other knife to Brynjolf's chest quicker than I can blink.

'No,' he whispers dangerously, his gaze still fixed on Brynjolf and the tip of his blade pressing at the thief's heart. 'No, no, he was too close to the sweet bird and the fool made a vow to keep her safe, in darkness and in light, and this _thief_ was hurting you, he was taking what wasn't his-'

'He wasn't hurting me,' I say firmly, still feeling the flush in my cheeks from the thief's kiss and wondering how Cicero could have misinterpreted the embrace in which he found me and Brynjolf, but the jester only shakes his head, still not looking away from Brynjolf, and I suddenly panic that he is not going to listen to me. _He said for anyone else it would be a knife, but it might as well be my heart and my throat he is threatening to tear now._ 'Please, Cicero,' I say softly, remembering the torment in his eyes when I last saw him but now seeing only fury. 'Put down the knives. You trust me, don't you? I promise the thief isn't going to hurt either of us. Please listen to me.'

The jester turns his gaze to me at last, although the rest of his body remains perfectly still, the dark shadows beneath his deep eyes and the sharp hollows of his cheek causing the wild expression on his skeletal face to seem like the mad throes of a dying man. 'Please?' he echoes quietly, the tortured look in his eyes provoking a deep ache in my heart as I suddenly relive my own pain to match his own. _Please, please, I have spoken the pitiful word too often,_ I think, but as I hold the jester's grey gaze, I remember that I have also had the thrill of hearing it said to me, when I killed in an alley like this one. _And I will one day hear Astrid say the word to me too._

'Please,' I repeat quietly, not breaking the contact of our eyes, some part of me knowing that the jester will heed my plea and step down a second before I see the anger in his expression clear abruptly and he lowers his blades at last.

'As you wish,' he says brightly, his pale hands dropping to his sides before he slips his weapons back into his hidden pockets and a wide smile breaks across his face. 'Only a fool would refuse such manners.' He glances back at Brynjolf, who continues to hold his glass dagger against the jester's neck. 'Now, do you mind?' Cicero says, his smile vanishing as quickly as it came. 'The sweet bird said to put down the blades and the jester obeyed, but the thief does not.'

'The _sweet bird_ asked you to put down your blades, not me,' Brynjolf says coldly as he moves forward, taking advantage of no longer being held at bladepoint as he raises his small knife to join his glass dagger against the jester's neck. 'Why shouldn't I kill you right now?'

'I promised you wouldn't hurt him,' I say quickly as Cicero's eyes widen, not with fear but with almost excitement, as if he is daring the thief to act on his words. 'Brynjolf, put down the blades.'

The redhead turns to look at me at last, his expression hard and his eyes bright with both irritation and disbelief. 'Then care to explain what the fuck is going on, lass?' he says, his tone cutting. 'Your _friend_ is trying to kill me, do you have any idea why?'

'Cicero is from the Dark Brotherhood,' I tell him before the jester can interject and answer for himself. 'He's been helping me with my last contracts. He's just...' I tail off, not sure how to explain why Cicero felt the need to hold Brynjolf at bladepoint, surprised by the jester's violent attempt to protect me. 'He's just trying to help me,' I finish lamely.

Brynjolf seems little reassured by my answer and his expression remains nonplussed, although he does not have a chance to question me further, as Cicero suddenly shrieks in delight and both Brynjolf and I turn to watch as the jester springs back out of reach of the thief's weapons, miraculously avoiding even a mere nick from the sharp blades.

'Yes, I'm helping her!' he cries, throwing his arms wide with a tinkling of bells as I grab Brynjolf's elbow to stop him stepping forward after the jester. 'Cicero is a friend, a fool, a fearless knight to fight for her virtue! I promised, I promised, and sweet Cicero never breaks his promises!' He grins at me, his eyes wild with excitement. 'And now the whores are sleeping and the girl is safely stolen away, just as he promised. We can finally go home!'

'You've done it?' I say as I let my hand fall from Brynjolf's arm, my shock over the manner of the jester's reappearance fading as I realise what he means and why he has found me at last. 'You've finished my contracts?'

Cicero clutches his heart in mock horror at my words. 'You doubted me?' he says with a gasp. 'Oh, no, you mustn't doubt sweet Cicero, not now, not ever. The jester has his fun, yes, yes, but he will never jest with Wren. The whores are dead and the girl has her new life far away from here, I swear.' Cicero gestures down the alley towards the main street. 'And we must be far away from here too, back home, back to the Sanctuary. Astrid will be waiting for us.'

Nausea rises unexpectedly in my stomach at the sound of Astrid's name and I find myself unable to reply for a moment, suddenly nervous at the prospect of returning to her, knowing that I must either look for a chance to take my revenge then and there or else bow to her demands and complete whatever contracts she gives to me next. _But either way, I am closer to her death, and nothing else can matter to me now._

'All right, let's go,' I say calmly to Cicero, relieved at least that this time I will not be returning alone or with Sapphire's safety on my mind - until suddenly the extent of that truth hits me and I turn quickly back to Brynjolf as he stands before me with his blades still drawn, realising that I have just as little desire to bring him to the Sanctuary as I did to drag Sapphire into danger. _And if he comes to the Sanctuary, he might find out who really killed Lorias._

'No, lass,' Brynjolf says firmly before I can even open my mouth to speak, evidently realising what I intend to say. 'Whatever the fuck is going on, you're not about to tell me to stay behind.' He glances at Cicero, his green eyes narrowed for a moment before he looks back at me and swiftly sheathes his blades. 'If you're going to the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary, I'm coming with you.'

'You aren't welcome at the Sanctuary,' Cicero snaps at the redhead, before his expression lightens and he grins again. 'Mother's rules, not mine,' he says innocently with a shrug. 'No naughty thieves, no intruders, and no guests without invitation. Where's your invitation, hm? We'll need to see it first, you know.'

Before I can point out to Cicero that he let Sapphire into the Sanctuary with me before, Brynjolf steps closer to me and raises his hands to my head, ignoring the jester as he gently cups my cheeks and turns me to face him. 'Remember what I said,' he murmurs, his eyes serious as he holds my gaze. 'Let me come with you, and let me help you. Wherever, and whatever.'

My heart warms with his words just like the first time he said them, and despite my reluctance to draw the thief into danger, I realise just how desperately I do not want to let him go when I think of what is to come and how I will feel when I take my next lives. _If I can hold on to whatever shred of pleasure and comfort in the meantime, then I will._

'Cicero is right, you can't come with us into the Sanctuary,' I tell Brynjolf, reaching up to rest my hands on his chest. 'But you could wait for us outside.'

The thief's thumbs trace lightly over my cheeks as he looks at me. 'Then I'll come with you as far as you'll have me,' he says, and he leans down to lay a quick kiss on my lips before he breaks apart and steps back.

'Thank you,' I say as both relief and regret floods through me, knowing I should demand that he stay as far away as possible but feeling selfishly glad that the thief intends to do no such thing. _I'm not alone anymore,_ I think, turning back to look at Cicero to tell him that I am ready to leave - although the sudden ice in the jester's grey eyes silences my words.

 _'And so did our eyes burn to feast upon what cannot be touched,'_ Cicero whispers, so quietly I can barely hear him, and before I can say a word or settle the strange chill that chases down my spine, the jester turns away and strides down the alley, stopping only a few paces away to pick something up from the ground. 'Naughty birds fly from their roosts,' he mutters as he turns around and I realise he is holding my satchel and my Guild jacket that I had left at the Reath tavern before I ran into Brynjolf last night. 'You were meant to wait for me where the rooks sleep, but you weren't there. So Cicero found your new nest, and your things... but not you... you found a new nest again...' He shakes his head sharply, causing several further messy strands of his red hair to escape from under his hood as he returns to stand in front of me. 'No time to waste, birds and fools must make haste, the rain is coming, the shadows are waiting. Cicero will meet you at the Sanctuary... the place gets damp after storms and Mother might need drying... poor sweet Mother, and poor sorry Cicero.'

The jester shoves my satchel and jacket into my arms unceremoniously before he turns around and walks away again, his slender form halfway down the alley before I have even realised he does not mean to wait for me to catch up with him.

'Meet me at the Sanctuary?' I echo, confused. 'Wait, where are you going?'

'Business,' Cicero says darkly as he pauses and glances back at me. 'Your fool will await you at the Sanctuary. But he has other... friends. He must see them before he goes home and before he reports to Astrid. Fools and birds mustn't be late...'

Without another word, Cicero darts down the alley and disappears out of sight down the street, and for a few seconds I stand in silence beside Brynjolf, as unnerved and uncertain of the jester as I was at our first encounter. _But he handled my contracts for me, and he's prepared to lie to Astrid for me, so surely I can trust him, can't I?_

Brynjolf breaks the silence at last, his familiar voice jolting me from my thoughts. 'So shall we talk about that insane jester you have acquired as a friend?' he says lightly. 'I must admit, I'm a little concerned, lass.'

'It's all right, he's not...' My assurance that Cicero is neither dangerous nor a cause for concern fails on my lips, suddenly processing the fact that he held Brynjolf at bladepoint only moments ago. _And as for why, I have no idea what is going through his mind._ 'He was just helping me with my last three contracts,' I say instead as I turn back to Brynjolf, seeing the frown of worry at the thief's brow and realising that his light tone was only a pretence. 'He offered to take care of them for me.'

'And why would he do that?' Brynjolf inclines his head, evidently still sceptical. 'What did he ask for in return?'

'Nothing,' I answer slowly, the reality of the situation hitting me as Brynjolf's frown deepens at my reply. _When I asked Cicero why he was helping me, he said it was because we were friends, but I'm no more than a stranger to him,_ _as_ _he_ _is_ _to me._

'Does he know what you're planning with Astrid?' Brynjolf says at last after a few seconds of silence, his voice low and quiet, and I shake my head emphatically.

'No,' I say, convinced that if the jester knew what I was planning, he would have handed me over to Astrid by now, or else used my secret to manipulate me in some way. _Like Mercer would have done._ 'All I know is that he helped me with my contracts, and now I can go back to Astrid without...' I hesitate, trying not to think of the young girl at the brothel whom Cicero promised to save, wondering for a moment where she is now and whether she is indeed safe. 'Without any further delay,' I finish finally. 'Cicero is right, we mustn't waste any time.'

Before I can turn away, Brynjolf reaches out and takes my satchel from my arms. 'I think you've got enough to carry,' he says with a brief smile as he slings my satchel easily over his shoulder. 'But you might want to put that on,' he adds, nodding at my Guild jacket still in my hands. 'He's insane, but that jester was right about one thing. It is going to rain.'

Another strange wave of nausea surges over me at the thought of what awaits me after the long wet journey to the Sanctuary, but as I heed the thief's advice and slide my arms through the sleeves of my Guild jacket, I force my stomach to settle and my mind to focus on the image of Astrid cowering before me, broken and helpless as I have been in the past, her blood warm and wet on my hands. _If the bitch's blood even runs warm,_ I think as I pull up my hood and adjust my old jacket to fit snugly over my new attire, comforted by the familiar weight of my Guild armour. _And w_ _hen the time comes,_ _feeling_ _her blood_ _on_ _my skin_ _will_ _be_ _just as comforting_ _._

 

*

 

The rain largely silences our journey to the Sanctuary, our hoods pulled low over our heads and the sound of the downpour filling the air, although I hear little beyond the uneasy beating of my heart, my nerves rising uncontrollably with each passing minute as we ride closer to the Sanctuary and my mind considers every scenario that may await me there. _I may be headed to my death or hers_ _,_ I think, my thoughts swirling uneasily in my head as we approach the marked tree where I met Sapphire, part of me longing to find the raven-haired thief waiting for me there, afraid that I will not see her one last time if I am truly riding towards my death. _It's safer that I am disappointed in that regard,_ I remind myself, deciding that my disappointment and longing is a small price to pay for Sapphire's safety. _And I'll pay it again now._

My cold wet hands grip the reins and I pull my horse to a stop near the tree, the creature's hooves slipping in the mud. 'The Sanctuary isn't far now,' I say, turning my head to face Brynjolf, rain dripping in front of my eyes from my hood. 'Wait for me here and I'll come back soon, all right?'

The thief reins in his stolen horse beside me, his troubled expression only half-hidden beneath his hood. 'Do I have any chance of convincing you to let me come with you?' he says.

'No,' I answer simply. 'Even if they did let you in, Astrid will start to get suspicious if I keep trying to bring guildmembers into the Sanctuary. She thinks I'm no longer a part of the Thieves Guild.'

'Does she, now?' Brynjolf is silent for a few moments, evidently struggling with himself whether to speak his mind. 'Wren, are you sure you know what she's thinking?' he asks finally. 'She could already suspect you're working against her.'

I shake my head, not wanting to believe it. _And letting myself even entertain the thought will only_ _stop me from pursuing my revenge any further_ _in fear_. 'If she knew, I'd be dead,' I say.

The thief frowns, clearly not convinced. 'She could be using Cicero to toy with you, to lure you into a trap,' he points out. 'She could be playing a game.'

 _Like Mercer,_ I think, remembering how Brynjolf had once told me that Mercer would hurt me too, the scar across my throat twinging suddenly as I recall how foolishly and blindly I had fallen into the previous Guildmaster's trap. _And I swore I wouldn't be so blind again, but maybe I'm fooling myself even now._

'Then I'll just have to make sure I win,' I say bluntly, feeling a humiliated blush stalk down my scarred neck as I try not to think about how terribly I lost before. 'Look, I appreciate your concern, but I know what I'm doing, and I can do this alone.'

'I know that,' Brynjolf says easily, not reacting to my sharp tone. 'And I know you're going to do it alone, no matter what I say. I just wish you didn't have to do it at all.' He sighs softly, the quiet sound almost lost beneath the falling rain. 'Just promise me you'll keep those weapons of yours ready, lass.'

I nod, relieved that he does not seem inclined to argue further, although I suddenly realise some part of me wishes he would. _Better to leave this with as few words said as possible and_ _to_ _not think of the consequences, else I might never leave._ 'I'll be back before nightfall,' I promise, forcing myself to look away from the thief as I nudge my horse forward with my heels.

'If you're not, I'll find you,' Brynjolf calls after me as I ride away, and I glance back at him only briefly with a forced smile.

'I'll be back,' I say again, needing to convince myself rather than him, although the sound of my voice is surely drowned by the rain and I doubt whether Brynjolf hears my promise as I quickly turn back and look ahead to the road once more as I urge my horse faster, leaving the thief behind along with my hesitation, reminding myself that I cannot turn back now.

 _It rained the night_ _they died, and m_ _aybe_ _this_ _rain_ _will still be falling when_ _I stand above Astrid's body, as she stood above the corpses of my parents and told me they were better dead._

A short while later, the horse's hooves slip in the mud as I make my way down the slope leading to the Sanctuary clearing, my clothes soaked through from the rain and my body shivering from both the chilly air and my nerves. Slowly I breathe in the wet green scent of the forest, although I can do little to steady the sudden jumping of my heart when I catch sight of a scarlet-cloaked figure standing near the entrance to the Sanctuary.

 _He definitely knows a shortcut,_ I think as I approach the jester, caught off-guard that he managed to arrive before me, despite whatever business he had to attend to beforehand. As I rein in my horse and start to dismount, Cicero leaps forward and grasps the bridle, holding the creature still as I climb down, my boots sinking a little into the sodden ground.

'No naughty thieves,' Cicero says brightly, and I notice a smile drawing his mouth wide as his gaze darts beyond the horse to the empty path behind me. 'You'll see, Wren. Guilds are fickle things, shiny and brief like thrown coins, but the Brotherhood is a family for life, oh yes, brothers and sisters and our sweet, sweet Mother...'

Before I can speak, the jester leads my horse away to the cover of the trees and loops the reins around a low branch to secure the creature. Steeling my heart, I turn away and start walking towards the entrance to the Sanctuary, finding that Cicero has already opened the hidden door - but before I can step inside, I feel a hand grab my arm from behind and I jump when I realise that the jester has crept up behind me.

'Not yet!' Cicero hisses, his grip stronger than I expect for his small frame as he pulls me back to him, his grey gaze racing over my upper body with a strange expression I cannot discern, one of both fear and curiosity. 'No longer a naughty thief, but a Brotherhood sister,' he murmurs as his fingers trail slowly over my arm, tracing the stitching of my Guild armour before he looks up to meet my gaze, his eyes storming and dark. 'Take it off,' he demands quietly, his voice low and any remnants of his smile now gone. 'Thieves are not welcome here.'

Startled by the unexpected edge in his voice, I suddenly remember what happened earlier in the city when he held Brynjolf at bladepoint. _He's armed with more than just roses,_ I think as I stare at the jester, well aware that enraging him might draw his knives rather than his flowers. _And he's right, Astrid needs to believe in my loyalty, and displaying my attachment to the Guild isn't going to help that._

I pull my arm free of Cicero's grasp and quickly start to unfasten my jacket, turning away from the jester's gaze as I take off the garment and drop it on the ground by the entrance to the Sanctuary, ignoring the chill that races through me at the loss. _And I know it is only partly because of the cold._

'Much better,' Cicero says brightly as I turn back to him, his voice returned to its normal pitch and his expression giving way to a smile once more. 'Birds must shed their feathers to grow new ones, yes... and when featherless, the hidden claws are free to strike.'

'Let's just go inside,' I say briskly as I step forward into the Sanctuary ahead of him, suddenly impatient and no longer afraid of what awaits me inside. _The frightened little bird I was at the Guild is gone, and my hidden claws are indeed ready to strike._

Inside the shelter of Sanctuary, I descend the steep spiralling steps, not hearing the jester behind me but nonetheless sensing that he is following me. As my muddy boots slip on the stone steps and I feel another chill cut through my sodden clothing, I raise my hands and my healing spell rises instinctively from my palms, the warmth of the glow taking some of the cold away as I direct the spell towards my body. _Shivering so much that I drop my daggers isn't going to help if I have a chance at killing Astrid now,_ I think, before I hear a sudden sharp intake of breath behind me and the spell vanishes from my hands as I jump in surprise.

'Clever,' I hear the jester whisper, closer behind me than I expected. 'She cuts and she mends. Where did you learn that magic, sweet bird?'

'From a book I stole,' I reply quietly, neither turning around nor hesitating as I reach the last step and start to walk along the passageway, not wanting to remember the time I spent trying to learn the spell, nor the circumstances under which I took the book. _I stole it from the Temple of Mara, before I followed Nelia to that den, before I laid her head gently on my lap, before I slit her throat for telling truths I could not bear to face._

'Clever,' Cicero says again, before his voice drops and he mutters inaudibly, the words mostly lost to my ears, although faintly I catch the last of his soft murmurings. 'Safe shadows, only one thing can save Wren...'

I keep walking, resisting the sudden urge to cast my healing spell again to ward off the uneasy chill that rises inside me at the jester's words. _He's right again, only one thing can save me, and it's waiting for me at the end of this passageway._

The sound of raised voices cuts into my thoughts and the chill inside me turns to sharp knives as I hear Astrid's voice carry down the hallway, reminding me exactly what is waiting for me.

'I told you that the miserable wretch needed to be kept alive until the contact arrived,' Astrid snaps, her voice like ice as I slow my speed, not wanting to reach the end of the passageway too soon. 'What part of that didn't you understand?'

'I assure you, I tried to keep her alive-' An unfamiliar rasping male voice is cut off by the female assassin before he can finish speaking.

'Trying isn't good enough. Was I not clear that the contact wanted to watch her die? Did I omit that part from your instructions, or are you growing deaf in your old age?'

'No, but the flames spread too fast-' the man tries to say.

'Admitting that you lack control over your magic is doing the opposite of absolving you, Krex,' Astrid snaps. 'You failed your contract, and now I'm wondering exactly what good you are to the Brotherhood if you might burn your entire family to ashes the next time you're trying to light your bedside candle. Don't argue,' she adds scathingly before the other assassin can interject. 'This conversation is over. I suggest you find some way to earn coin with those magic tricks of yours, because if you think I'm going to trust you with another contract any time soon, your old age has decayed your mind as well as your hearing. Now go.'

Silence falls heavy and ominous, although the tangible tension does not affect me as sharply as the sudden realisation that Astrid has evidently dismissed the other assassin from her presence. _She's alone,_ I think, my hands drawing into fists and releasing slowly, my mouth dry with the knowledge that now is the time to strike. _And she's clearly angry, frustrated, maybe enough to make a mistake and let me take the advantage._

As I reach the end of the passageway and take a deep breath to steady my racing heart, Cicero suddenly darts around me and leaps forward into the chamber ahead of me. 'Oh, Astrid, Astrid! We're home, Astrid!' he calls loudly as I hurry to follow him, my heart stopping for a moment when I step out into the room behind the jester to find Astrid standing alone at the candlelit table, a crumpled piece of parchment in front of her and an irritated scowl on her face - and as the blonde assassin looks across the room and I meet her cold blue gaze, my heart jolts hard in my chest.

 _She's really alone, I can do this now,_ I realise, my hands suddenly feeling numb in readiness of what they must do, although the jester's shrill voice startles me before I can reach for my daggers and he bounds forward to stand at the opposite side of the table to Astrid.

'You should have heard the bird chirping so sweetly about her kills!' he says excitedly to the blonde assassin before he makes a loud retching sound. 'But such frightfully _dull_ kills! Pristine and poisoned and with nary a crease in their bedsheets. Cicero likes fountains and ribbons, blood and guts, red and flesh-white and-'

'Enough screaming, Cicero, unless you'd like me to make you scream for the last time,' Astrid interrupts sharply, her scowl deepening as she glares at Cicero. 'And I won't make it pristine.'

The jester claps his hands to his mouth. 'Oh yes, Astrid,' he whispers theatrically between his pale fingers. 'I'm sorry, Astrid. Cicero will be quiet, and let the bird sing to the night sky.' He looks back at me, an eager smile on his face. 'Tell her how you slipped the poison into the whores' wine and the girl's cup of warm milk one stormy night,' he says. 'How you left them sleeping, oh so sweetly sleeping, and sent their souls to the void for safekeeping.'

'There's not much else to tell,' I say offhandedly as I look at Astrid, conscious that I will be unable to relay the intricacies of the murders if she questions me. _Maybe that's why Cicero has just told her everything she needs to know._

'Oh, I think there is plenty to tell, Wren,' Astrid says, her scowl vanishing from her face as she looks across the table at me. 'I'm surprised to hear that you favoured poison rather than your daggers for these kills. Since you've always so enjoyed slitting throats, this change seems rather... curious. And there is another curiosity that has played on my mind ever since you first showed up here,' she says softly, her gaze flickering slowly over my body as my nerves heighten abruptly in anticipation of what she might say. 'Tell me, how did you manage to misplace the dagger I gave you, hm? The Blade of Justice was a precious gift, and yet you appear to have lost it. Perhaps the fierce little bird lost her taste for blood? Perhaps someone took advantage of her hesitation and disarmed her?'

'No,' I say coolly, picturing for a brief moment the image of Astrid bleeding before me and knowing I shall never be taken advantage of again. 'And I didn't _misplace_ the Blade of Justice,' I add, not wanting to admit that Mercer used the Blade to cut my own throat, nor wanting to remember that he promised to return it to me one day. 'Someone stole it from me when I was sleeping. It's long gone now.'

'A shame,' Astrid says quietly before she smiles. 'Then I wonder what you kill for now, hm? If not justice, what is it, Wren? What did you feel when you killed those whores?'

I fold my arms, not wanting to discuss my contracts and risk letting the truth slip. 'Look, I've fulfilled my contracts,' I say bluntly. 'There's nothing more to say. The three of them are dead, just as you asked, just as Sithis desired.'

'All three?' Astrid repeats, her expression and voice unnervingly pleasant. 'I know that the two women were discovered in their beds, but there was no sign of the girl. She seems to have simply... vanished.' The assassin inclines her head, a small smirk at her lips and a dangerous gleam in her blue eyes. 'Did you kill the child whore too, Wren?' she murmurs. 'Or did you let your sweet little heart get the better of you and you chose to spare her?'

I feel an uncomfortable shiver run down my spine under the weight of her gaze and her pointed question. 'Why would I do that?' I ask, forcing my tone to sound disinterested. 'She was a contract, nothing more. I didn't know her or care for her.'

Astrid laughs sweetly. 'On the contrary, I think you knew her very well,' she says. 'She reminds you of someone, doesn't she? An innocent little girl, trapped and used for the pleasure of others?' Astrid laughs again, the sound mocking. 'She even had your curls, sweet thing.'

I feel a humiliated blush rise in my neck and cheeks, silencing whatever reply I might have made as I stare at the blonde assassin and realise that she gave me the contract on purpose. _She knew I'd see myself in that girl, she knew I would think of Honourhall and Grelod's guests and every moment that I felt degraded, afraid and helpless._

'So where is she?' Astrid asks bluntly before I can push aside my thoughts, the sweetness in her voice suddenly gone and her eyes narrowed. 'If you killed her as you just claimed, her body would have been discovered. It wasn't. So tell me, Wren, what reason do you have for pretending you sent her soul to Sithis, when clearly you did not?' She pauses, her body entirely still. 'What reason do you have for lying to me?'

The humiliated flush in my cheeks turns to cold panic as I try to think of an answer and hide the guilt from my expression, fearing that the truth is written on my face for her to see - but before I can calm myself and manage to reply, Cicero raises his hand into the air slowly, a sheepish expression upon his face.

'Cicero begs your forgiveness, he knows he must confess the truth about the girl,' he says softly, setting my heart panicking for a moment until he continues speaking. 'After Wren killed her, the naughty jester slipped into the brothel and took the still little body for his... experiments.' He wrings his hands together, his eyes wide with guilt as he looks across the table at the blonde assassin. 'I thought the dear lady Astrid wouldn't mind, she knows the bad jester is only trying to find a way for our sweet Mother to look pretty again, with lovely fresh skin, soft and clean and new! You can see what's left of the girl if you like, but she's not so pretty now - see, she wasn't quite right for our Mother, too pale and too frail... but I think there are some fingers and an eye left somewhere if you'd like to see them, and the toes too... Cicero hates toes... and our dear Mother isn't walking anywhere, after all.'

Irritation flashes across Astrid's expression, the dangerous threat in her eyes turning to annoyance. 'You took her body?' she snaps at Cicero, her vicious tone barely unsettling me beneath my relief that she appears to believe the jester's lie. 'I told you never to do that again. The corpses of our contracts belong to the Dark Brotherhood, not to your perversions.'

Cicero hurriedly sweeps a deep bow. 'Of course, sweet lady,' he says apologetically. 'The fool is terribly sorry and he will try to remember the next time he sees a worthy corpse. Astrid should have a say in the tailoring of our dear Mother's new garments, anyway. I promise I will ask permission the next time-'

'Continue speaking and the Night Mother will wear your skin,' Astrid interrupts coldly, before she looks away from the jester and her blues eyes meet mine. 'And I will let Wren have the pleasure of tearing it from your bones. She still owes me two lives, and I'm sorely tempted to give her the name _Cicero_ next.'

I hold her gaze, ignoring the jester's dramatic squeak of terror following Astrid's words. 'If that is what you ask of me,' I say evenly, realising suddenly that it matters little whether she believes I killed the girl or who she might name as my next contract. _This ends now. Only Cicero stands between us, and unlike Astrid's husband, the fool may be gracious enough to give me a quick death in retaliation after I kill the leader of his Brotherhood._

'Oh, I shall ask more of you than flaying a jester,' Astrid replies with a smile. 'Serving the Brotherhood requires a sacrifice beyond the flesh of others, sweet thing. But for now, I have already chosen your next contract. Sithis grows impatient for the last two souls you owe him.'

 _I owe him only one,_ I think as I feel a tingling in my fingertips, but before I can draw a breath and comprehend what I must do next, the jester at my side claps his hands loudly and interrupts me once more.

'Yes, yes, who is next?' Cicero says, looking between us in excitement. 'Who's next to feel the sweet kiss of the bird's claws?'

Astrid smiles again and lets the silence linger for several seconds, her eyes not leaving mine. 'I have learnt over the years that every assassin has a particular... _curiosity_ ,' she says slowly. 'Some enjoy mutilation or poison. Some like to toy with their kills for days and some enjoy bathing in their blood. And I have learnt your curiosity, Wren.' Her smile widens as I stare at her, my heart beating uneasily. 'Eravyn, Lorias... your most exquisite kills are those which you enact in the throes of passion, are they not? The men left pleasured and brutalised in their beds... it is poetry for Sithis, my dear, one he enjoys as much as you.'

The blush returns to my cheeks as Astrid's words force me back to Eravyn's bed, to Lorias' bed, to the ways I disarmed and disadvantaged them. _Clever fucking whore,_ I hear the Imperial mutter as he choked on his blood, laughing at my degradation.

'So I think you will be pleased with your next contract,' Astrid says, smirking as I try to contain my reaction. 'He's a rather handsome soldier, by the name of Gaius Maro. Another Imperial, but not like the last... you'll enjoy this one a lot more, sweet thing. And I hope you have something nice to wear,' she adds before I can speak, and she picks up a pristine white envelope from the table. 'You'll find him protecting the bride at a wedding in Solitude in a fortnight, and this invitation will allow you entry as a part of the performing troupe hired to... entertain the guests.' She holds out the envelope, smirking. 'I trust you remember how to play that part?'

I do not move to reach across the table to take it, knowing that I should instead reach for my daggers and end this now while I have the chance - and yet the sound of her mocking words and the insinuation behind them turns my blood cold and my body immobile. _Besides, she's right, I'd have better luck killing her if I had her beneath me in a bed,_ I think bitterly, realising that the success of my previous assassinations have relied upon my victims being incapacitated in some way. _Even killing Lorias' men in the alley means little, as I doubt Astrid will be_ _so easily_ _disarmed by the darkness._

'Wren,' she says in the wake of my silence, her voice almost taunting as she waves the enveloped invitation slowly. 'Should I take your hesitation to mean that you do not want this contract, hm? That you no longer wish to earn your place in the Dark Brotherhood?'

 _This isn't something I have to earn, like one of Mercer's games,_ I think, a strange calmness settling over me as I remember how Astrid spoke to me over the corpses of my parents all those years ago, how she spoke to me in the shack after she kidnapped me, how she has spoken to me in my mind ever since. _I didn't earn my freedom from Honorhall. I took it with blood and because it was justice._

'No,' I answer, finding my voice at last. 'I want nothing more than to be here.'

Astrid smiles and waves the parchment once more. 'Then I was thinking you might pose as a bard, my dear, and sing so prettily to the guests. I'm sure that sweet voice of yours has sung some terribly sad songs, hasn't it?' Without waiting for my reply, Astrid steps around the table and holds out the invitation. 'Now take this, kill well, and be worthy of Sithis' approval.'

 _I may not earn his approval, but killing the leader of the Dark Brotherhood would make me worthy of his respect,_ I realise, deciding that Sithis would at least admire my desire for vengeance and blood, of taking a debt long promised to me, of prizing another's death over my own life. _And I hardly another reason to do this._

I draw a breath and step forward, my fingers tingling once more with readiness, my heart surprisingly calm as I start to approach Astrid, intending to reach with one hand for the invitation whilst reaching for my dagger with the other - but before I am within reach of her, Cicero leaps forward and blocks my path, standing between me and Astrid.

'Cicero loves weddings!' he cries as he snatches the parchment from the blonde assassin's hand. 'And he loves being a jester! It's perfect, isn't it? The bird and the fool, off to ruin a beautiful bride's precious day with laughter and blood and deadly last kisses!'

'The bird and the fool?' Astrid repeats, her irritation cutting her voice sharp once more. 'As much as I'd rather you scream from halfway across Skyrim than from here, you have no need to go to Solitude with Wren.'

'To Solitude, to entertain, to kill!' the jester says excitedly, only raising his voice louder as he looks down at the parchment, his fingers running eagerly over the embossed edges. 'Such a grand invitation to such a grand wedding, where there will be many eyes, many watchers, and where Wren will need a distraction, a ruse! And our dear Cicero is a funny jester, a joking fool... the perfect accomplice to the bard, the perfect companion to entertain the guests while the bird spills the blood for our Dread Father!'

Anger flashes in Astrid's eyes once more but she has no chance to speak, as Cicero suddenly collapses onto his knees before her, one hand clutching the invitation to his chest and the other clutching at one of Astrid's leather boots.

'Oh please, lady Astrid!' he says shrilly. 'Cicero wants to see the grand city and watch the soldier die. And just think of all the rich skin in Solitude! I might find Mother her perfect face! Her perfect body! Noblewomen are such pretty things and our sweet Mother deserves the prettiest, most noblest and most-'

'By Sithis, enough!' Astrid hisses, silencing Cicero mid-speech as she steps back and pulls her leg free from his grasp. 'Fine, you'll be as much use to me in Solitude as you are here. Leave, then, before I decide to take out your tongue and flay you myself.'

Cicero squeaks in delight and scrambles to his feet without preamble. 'Oh, kind Astrid, sweet Astrid, thank you,' he says in a hushed voice, bowing deeply as he backs away. 'The fool will leave you in peace, in quiet, in... solitude.' He makes a quiet giggle before he turns around to face me. 'While we are in Solitude! Come on, Wren, let's go! We can get a carriage from Falkreath straight to Solitude's front gates, isn't that convenient? You can practise your songs with me on the way!'

I stare at him, frustrated that the jester still stands between me and Astrid and fighting with my desire to step around him and take my chances with her anyway. _It's either that or kill again for her,_ I think with despair, imagining taking more lives at her demand, imagining spilling more blood for her and for my revenge, but before I can decide what to do, Cicero steps forward and pushes the envelope into my hands.

'There, that's what you need, isn't it?' he says, beaming. 'And don't worry, the fool won't interfere with your contract, he promises! He just wants to watch, and make sure our Dread Father's will is done. And it will be done.' He grabs my elbow and turns me around sharply, the strength of his grip surprising me once again. 'Now we mustn't be late, naughty bird - it's bad luck to be late to a wedding!'

He pushes me forward and I can do little to stop him as I let the jester herd me away from Astrid, realising that I cannot fight both of them and knowing in my heart that I would be wise to wait until she allows me to stay here as a fully fledged member of the Dark Brotherhood. _She's right, I do kill best when my victim is in their bed and unsuspecting,_ _and seeing Astrid lying bloodied beneath me will give me more pleasure than trying and failing to kill her now_ _._

'And Wren?' Astrid calls sweetly as I reach the passageway, and I glance behind me, feeling Cicero's gaze on my face as I look past him to Astrid. 'Bring me back Maro's eyes after you've killed him, won't you? Such an exquisite shade of blue, I hear. I'd like to see them for myself, if you would be so kind.'

I manage to nod once before I turn away, the consequence behind her words curdling my stomach into nauseous knots. _Maybe I would sooner take my chances and die at her hands now rather than take out an innocent man's eyes for her,_ I think before I feel the jester's hand brush lightly against the small of my back and I jump at the contact, remembering who stands between me and Astrid.

'Solitude,' Cicero breathes in my ear from behind, his hand pressing a little more urgently at my back. 'Quiet Solitude, where the shadows await us, where we will be safe. Let's fly away, singing bird.'

As if compelled by his voice and touch, my body moves of its own accord and I continue walking along the passageway, leaving Astrid behind and knowing that I will not take her life today. _Again,_ I think with frustration as I start to climb the steps, trying to empty my mind and listen only to the quiet sound of my heartbeat. _I'm alive, but so is she._

Outside the Sanctuary once more, I catch sight of my Guild jacket on the ground and I reach down to pick it up, the worn leather fitting my body as I slip my arms through the sleeves and draw the garment close around me, comforted once more by the familiar weight. _I survived Honourhall, I survived Snow Veil Sanctum, I survived every guest and every contract, and I will survive Astrid too,_ I remind myself as I head across the clearing to where Cicero tied my horse, glancing back when I hear the jester close the Sanctuary door behind us. Not caring to wait for him in the rain, I mount my horse and urge the creature forward out of the clearing, knowing Cicero will follow me regardless of whether I want it and suddenly unable to decide whether that certainty fills me with relief or anger. _If not for him, I could've killed her... but I suppose that by inadvertently stopping me from getting to Astrid, Cicero probably just saved my life._

My mind preoccupied and with little desire to discuss the path ahead, I lead the way in silence along the road through the forest, distantly hearing the jester singing quietly behind me through the rain as he follows on foot. As we near the tree where I left Brynjolf, I feel a wave of nausea rise inside me, hit by the truth that I will soon have to part ways with the thief just as I did with Sapphire, despite my desire to keep him by my side and stay in the safety of his arms. _The illusion of safety,_ I remind myself, remembering how I was almost discovered by Lorias' friend even whilst I was in Brynjolf's arms this morning. _The only thing keeping me safe is myself, nothing else and no one else._

My heart jumps when a figure steps out of the cover of the trees, but it only takes a moment for me to recognise the thief's red hair through the gloom of the forest as Brynjolf strides forward to meet me in the middle of the road, his hood pushed back and his expression caught between concern and relief.

'What happened?' He reaches out to grasp the bridle of my horse as I rein in the creature beside him, his gaze racing over my face swiftly. 'Are you all right?'

'I'm fine,' I say, conscious that the jester is only a short distance behind me and knowing that I cannot explain further to Brynjolf until we are alone. 'Cicero and I are leaving Falkreath. I have another contract to complete so I'll be gone for a few weeks.'

'A few weeks?' Brynjolf repeats, his gaze troubled as he looks up at me. 'Where are you going, lass?'

I do not get a chance to reply, as Cicero appears on my other side and grabs the horse's bridle too. 'No time to waste with chattering,' he says briskly, ignoring the thief entirely and staring up at me with impatience in his grey eyes. 'We want the best seats on the carriage, after all, and the best seats at the wedding! Come along now, Wren, we mustn't be late!'

He steps backwards and tries to pull my horse forward after him, but even the jester's surprising strength is no match for the redhead, and Brynjolf holds the bridle steady as the horse dances beneath me, uneasily caught between the thief and the jester's opposing commands.

'Go ahead, then,' Brynjolf says to Cicero, although he does not look away from my eyes. 'Wren will catch up with you.'

'It's all right,' I say to the jester before he can speak, seeing fury flash in his eyes as bright as it did earlier in the alley and not wanting to repeat what happened there. 'I'll be right behind you in a few minutes.'

Cicero is silent for a few moments as he stares up at me, a flurry of emotions flashing in his eyes too quickly for me to register, until he finally relinquishes control on the horse's bridle and steps backwards abruptly. 'Who is Cicero to argue with Wren, with Mother's wishes, with the shadows?' he mutters under his breath as he turns away. 'They're waiting for you just as I will wait for you, sweet bird, gentle bird, little bird...'

An icy shiver runs down my spine and my breath catches in my scarred throat with his words, but the jester falls silent and darts away to the trees without saying anything more, and within moments he is lost to my sight by the shadows of the forest and the falling rain. _Little bird,_ I think, fighting against the unease that rises instinctively inside me at those words, until the gentle touch of Brynjolf's hand on my thigh draws me back to reality and I remember that it is the red-haired thief with me rather than Mercer Frey.

'I couldn't get a chance to kill her,' I tell Brynjolf quietly in a rush before he can speak, still conscious that Cicero may be within distance to hear me. 'I tried but Cicero got in the way, so I had to take another contract, for an Imperial soldier called Gaius Maro. I have to kill him at a wedding and... and I have to bring his eyes back to Astrid as proof.'

'The Dark Brotherhood is as tasteful as ever,' Brynjolf remarks dryly, before he inclines his head. 'So where exactly are we going for this contract, lass?'

'You're not coming with me,' I say swiftly, having planned my answer on the way back from the Sanctuary. 'You're going to stay and restore the Guild's footing here, that's why you came to Falkreath in the first-'

'I just asked where, lass,' Brynjolf interrupts, a small smile at his mouth. 'Before you try to convince me to stay, how about you answer the question, eh?'

'The contract is in Solitude,' I tell him almost reluctantly. 'But I'll only be gone for a couple of weeks, so it really does make sense for you to just finish your business with the Guild here while I'm...' My words falter and I narrow my eyes as I look down at the thief. 'Why are you smiling like that?'

'No reason, lass,' Brynjolf says, his eyes still bright with amusement as he forces back his grin. 'I'm just wondering again if I did something to please Nocturnal without even realising. Solitude, is it? Well, it so happens that I've a need to go there myself.'

I raise my eyebrows. 'Really,' I say sceptically.

'Beautiful and deadly, but your memory could use some more training, starlight,' Brynjolf teases. 'Remember I mentioned our contact who might be convinced to replace the one we lost here? He's working in Solitude. I was going to send a letter, but maybe a conversation in person would prove more persuasive.' Before I can speak, the thief grins again and steps back from me. 'That's settled then,' he says as he releases my horse's bridle and pulls his hood back up once more, tucking the damp strands of his auburn hair out of sight. 'Since you're so adamant that I handle Guild business, it seems I'll be going to Solitude with or without you, lass. So why not keep each other company on the road, eh? Once we reach the city, we'll part ways to attend to our separate endeavours. Surely you wouldn't argue with that?'

I open my mouth and close it, trying to find an answer to convince him otherwise. _He knows I can't argue with the proposal of us simply travelling together,_ I think, before I remember the last contract I carried out with my own hands and the consequences of my actions. 'And what of the woman you're hunting here?' I say carefully as Brynjolf turns away and disappears between the trees to untie his horse. 'Don't you want to find her and question her?'

'In the unlikely event that Lorias' men find her, they'll keep her alive for me to question when we get back,' he answers as he reappears a few seconds later, leading his horse to join me on the road. 'Any other concerns, lass? Or shall we catch up with your creepy jester and get going?'

'You really want to come with me?' I say, unable to hide my wariness, still uncertain why he would want to risk his life to aid me. 'You know why I'm doing this, you know why I'm getting close to Astrid. Either she dies or I do, and I don't want anyone else getting hurt along with us. She's already threatened Sapphire's life, and if she finds out that you-'

'I appreciate your concern, lass, but I can protect myself as well as you,' Brynjolf says firmly. 'And if Astrid discovers that I'm with you and becomes suspicious of our intentions, you can tell her the truth, can't you?'

I frown. 'That I'm going to kill her?' I say in confusion.

'Not that truth, Wren. The other one.' At my nonplussed silence, the thief sighs and turns back to his horse. 'You can tell her the truth that I don't want to be anywhere other than at your side, lass. That I'm a lovestruck fool who followed you from Riften and will follow you anywhere you go.' He throws his familiar charming smile back at me as he puts one foot into the stirrup and climbs gracefully into the saddle. 'And that I'm terribly selfish, because I like having you in my bed far too much to let you leave it again.'

I cannot help but laugh at his words, his light-hearted unguarded charm relieving some of my fear. _He doesn't seem afraid of what is ahead, so why should I be?_

'Such a beautiful sound,' the redhead says, his grin widening as he looks over at me. 'I'd capture your laugh and relive it endlessly if I could, lass. If only I were a jester too, eh?'

'I don't think I need another,' I say with a grimace, to which Brynjolf laughs.

'I'm inclined to agree,' he says. 'Talking of which, we should probably get going before he comes back to drag you to Solitude by your ankles.' The thief makes a drawn out sigh. 'Incidentally, exactly how long is the journey from here to Solitude?'

'Are you upset by the thought of being trapped in a carriage with a jester for days on end?' I tease as I nudge my horse with my heels.

Brynjolf laughs as he urges his horse forward too and he falls into pace beside me. 'No, lass, what's upsetting to me is that I've had you within reach for an entire night and a day and I've only made you come once,' he says lightly, looking at me sideways. 'To be completely honest, that thought alone is driving me mad, Wren.'

I glance across at him, feeling my cheeks warm with his words and the memory of how we spent last night. 'Well, I said I don't need another mad jester,' I remind him.

'Ah, but unlike your new friend, I know the cure for madness,' Brynjolf says, and at my quizzical look, he throws me another charming smile. 'It's you, Wren.'

I scoff at his line. 'Are you really going to keep this up for the entire journey?' I say, although the thought of his flattering words and his company brightens the prospect of what awaits me in Solitude.

'Aye, among other things,' the thief replies with a roguish grin before he reaches into my satchel still slung over his shoulder. 'But until I get you alone in a room without jesters and assassins, this is all I can offer you to keep you warm and satisfied.' He withdraws a small bottle of wine and reaches over to pass the bottle to me. 'I found it by that tree where I waited for you. Someone evidently wasn't aware of the alternative cure to madness when they left it here.'

Warmth flutters in my heart as I stretch out my hand to take the wine and the realisation suddenly hits me. _Sapphire left it there for me,_ I think, knowing distantly that I cannot be sure that it was her and yet convinced nevertheless that it was. _She's alive and safe, as am I,_ _and that gives me more hope than I knew possible_ _._

'Wait a moment,' I say, reining in my horse abruptly before I pull the cork from the bottle and bring the wine to my mouth, swallowing quickly as I try to drain the bottle as fast as possible.

Brynjolf laughs softly as he stops beside me and watches me gulp down the sweet wine. 'Didn't realise you were so thirsty, lass,' he remarks when I lower the half-empty bottle to draw breath a few seconds later, my head a little dizzy and realising that drinking the rest in such a short space of time may not be wise.

'Finish it for me?' I say, holding the wine out to Brynjolf as I breathe in the wet rainy air to clear my head.

The thief laughs again but does not argue as he takes back the bottle and sets about drinking the rest of the wine. 'How about the other cure for madness next, eh, lass?' he says, but the suggestive gleam in his eyes turns to confusion when I dismount from my horse and reach up to take the empty bottle from his hands.

'You said it yourself, wine is all you can offer me until we're away from jesters and assassins,' I remind him distractedly as I start to walk back along the road to the marked tree, wishing that I had something more to leave for Sapphire than an empty bottle to tell her that I am alive - but as I reach the tree, my gaze lands upon a cluster of grey feathers amongst the fallen pines on the forest floor, the remnants of a bird hunted and caught. _Save for writing my name on the label of the wine bottle, this is the best I can do,_ I think as I reach down and pick up one of the soft grey feathers, slipping it into the neck of the bottle before placing it at the roots of the marked tree, hoping that when Sapphire next passes, she will find it and know that I am alive. _And maybe feel as hopeful as I do now, believing that she is safe and we will see each other again soon._

'Dare I ask?' Brynjolf says as I return to the road a few seconds later and I walk back to where he waits with our horses, the thief's curiosity written plainly on his expression.

'It's just for luck,' I say with a smile before I remount my horse, feeling another wave of heady dizziness once more as I settle in the saddle, the quickly consumed wine blurring the edges of my mind. 'Shall we go? Cicero is right, we don't want to be late, do we? And like you said, I don't really want to be dragged to Solitude by my ankles.'

I urge my horse forward along the road, hearing the thief laugh quietly behind through the rain before he follows and quickly catches up with me, and in the deepening shadows we ride side by side through the forest back towards the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so incredibly sorry for the delay (and for any errors in this chapter, I'm sure I've missed some!). I'll keep it short and simply say that I have not been in a good place and my writing shrivelled up to almost naught but ashes. I really hope it doesn't come across too terribly in this chapter, but I know it reads clunky and badly in some places - and it doesn't help that it's one of those frustrating interlude chapters that doesn't have a clear focus... hence the weak title... but fortunately I think this one will be the last of its kind, as all the upcoming chapters have a lot more going on and I've very excited to write them! Also I ended up not including the smut I had planned to have in this chapter (oh, window ledge smut, perhaps you will return in another chapter) because I have not been in quite the right frame of mind for writing it (and I think I miss Mercer too much... somehow misery comes easier than happiness) but I intend to make up for it doubly in the next chapter with some good smut scenes.
> 
> So in other news, I have finally started a writing blog. It can be found here: https://roeanderson.wordpress.com. It will probably mostly consist of posts like these end notes, so if by some strange perversion you actually enjoy my crazy rambling, please come and talk to me there :) I've just posted a little scene that I cut from this chapter and I intend to continue to do that whenever I post a chapter here, as there are always lots of snippets and scenes that never make the final edit. Generally, I'm just excited to have a place to expend all my writing thoughts and feelings - and if you do visit me there, please do let me know if you have any suggestions!
> 
> Finally, I know I fall off the face of the earth sometimes and take forever to come back to life, but I just want to say thank you again to the people who continue to reach out to me and show their support and friendship. You know who you are, and I value you more than I can say <3
> 
> PS. Can you believe it's been over a year since I started writing this story? I look over all the comments and kudos from you wonderful readers and it makes me feel so happy even when everything else around me feels like utter shit. So thank you to everyone reading this. This tale may drag on for another year yet, and I feel ever so lucky to have had your company for the journey so far.
> 
> PPS. So I've decided I'm going to write two or maybe three different endings to Birdsong... because my heart is torn in too many different ways and I want to leave things open for potential sequels...


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